


Slow It Down

by intheblinkofaneye



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Reality, Sexual Content, TMH tour, Unrequited Love, harry and girl is not romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheblinkofaneye/pseuds/intheblinkofaneye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s a little bit broken and Louis’ a little bit oblivious. Or, where no one sees Harry’s cracks until he disappears in the middle of the Australian leg of their tour. Because in order to create a new masterpiece, the old one has to be washed away. And nothing does the job better than the sea.</p><p>Title from "Slow It Down" by The Lumineers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own One Direction, eagerly awaiting the bidding to start though

He’s drowning. The water is a familiar shade of blue and it’s everywhere and it’s crushing him and no matter how hard he tries he can’t move his limbs. Each attempt brings a new wave of pain over him to add to the crushing pressure and the desperate cries of his lungs. Blackness frames the startling blue, and with a gasp his eyes snap open. 

There are very few things that Harry Styles is ever certain of in the morning. But this morning (was it even morning?) brings the absolute certainty that he had, in fact, been hit by a bus last night. Repeatedly.

With a groan, he turns his head, leaving his face smashed in the overly posh hotel pillow. 10:47. An acceptable hour to curl up and die, preferably. Maybe return to the crushing depths of that dream ocean that at least was less painful.

He lifts his head and glances over to the next bed at the same moment that its former occupant steps out of the hotel bathroom.

“You alive there, Haz?” Louis calls, pulling on a t-shirt, flopping down next to Harry and shaking his wet hair in his face. Harry makes a motion to slap him, regretting it immediately as a wave of nausea washes over him.

“How is it,” he begins, grimacing at the stale taste in his mouth, “that I can’t even legally drink in the States, and yet I consistently wake up feeling as if I’ve drained the whole bar?”

“Well I wouldn’t say the whole bar, but not for lack of trying. You and Zayn made a valiant effort to drink this poor city dry,” Louis glances at the clock, then pushes himself off the bed.

“Fuck,” Harry grunts. “Where are you heading off to? We’ve got the week off before Australia.”

Louis leans against the wall, slipping his feet into a pair of worn Toms and grabbing a glass from the counter, filling it from the sink and placing it on Harry’s nightstand.

“El’s got time off before she starts back at Manchester, she and Danielle land in about an hour. Which means at this rate, I’m late, and Liam’s going to murder me. Try not to kick the bucket while I’m gone, alright?” With a quick salute, Louis slips out the door. Harry rolls onto his back. Eleanor. At least he knows why he’d tried to valiantly drown himself in booze last night. Louis had dropped the bomb that she would be making an appearance after their final L.A. show. Which had been last night- that much he remembers. He looks at the glass of water sitting next to him, suddenly finding himself craving it to be something much more potent.

 

Eleanor Calder is pretty, smart, quick-witted and easy-going- everything someone needs to be to catch Louis Tomlinson’s eye. Which is exactly why he fell in love with her.

And not you, Harry thinks, adjusting the temperature in the shower. He mentally slaps himself for that thought. The long, tragic saga that is Larry Stylinson. The short, brilliant tale that was Larry Stylinson.

America had been going well. He’s exhausted, but the couple months away from home had brought the same closeness that One Direction had had in the beginning. No girlfriends, no families, no bleak office in London full of executives- just five boys and thousands of screaming fans. Even his relationship with Louis has been about as good as it could be. Their relationship (relationship, he thinks, being used in the loosest way possible) had met an untimely demise, collapsing with not so much a bang but whimper. He and Louis had been so close to moving away from just dancing around each other, with comments that didn’t quite carry the same level as ease as they once did and lingering touches that, once comforting, now seemed horribly out of place. Yes, a healthy, subtle level of awkwardness has shrouded their friendship.

Not that Louis ever notices, he thinks bitterly, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Louis and Eleanor are apparently very happy together, over a year strong, while Harry is left to read about whose heart he’s supposedly broken recently each morning in the papers. Ironic, he thinks, that he’s supposedly the heartbreaker. How did that Script song? When a heart break no, it don’t break even. 

Truer words never spoken, he thinks. 

He grabs a towel from the rack. His head is a bit clearer, but that only brings on the ever-present exhaustion that no amount of sleep can relieve. Yes, Harry Styles is definitely running low on fuel. The massive 10-month tour was taking its toll finally. August is reaching its halfway point, meaning roughly two months to go. Australia is their last big stop- they’ll spend almost two months touring there before finishing up with two shows in Japan. Two month is all he has to last. The promised low-key week before they ship off to Australia is his last chance to regain at least some sanity. But for now, there’s something invisible wrapping around him, squeezing his chest just a bit, letting him know it’s there, it has power over him, his own mind uprising against him. Everything over the past year has taken a piece out of him, from Louis to the interviewers to the fans…and right back to Louis, he supposes.

It always comes back to Louis.

There is a knock at the door as he slips on his briefs. Still a bit woozy from his hangover, he stumbles out of the bathroom. The peephole reveals a disheveled Zayn, still in his clothes from the night before, and looking as if someone had puked glitter in his hair. His chest feels a little lighter.

“You hook up with Tinkerbell last night?” Harry says as he opens the door, smirking. Zayn narrows his eyes.

“I have no fucking idea and it’s all your fault,” Zayn stalks over to the bed and flops down on his back, chest heaving. “This is worse than when I woke up behind the ice machine.”

Harry snorts. Turns out Independence Day in America is essentially an excuse to drink in the name of one’s country. After their show in Montreal, they had returned to the states and celebrations were still going strong. The club had had a field day with four Brits and one Irish kid out for the night, light heckling them (“for the Founding Father’s sake”) but for the most part taking it upon themselves to show them the true meaning of freedom. Which came in the form of more beer than Harry had ever cared to try in his life. Niall had decided it was his new favorite holiday. 

“Lou gone to meet El then?” Zayn asks. Harry nods, turning away to hide the scowl that had crept onto his face.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Zayn continues. “I don’t pity drink for just any pretty bloke. Although your striking green eyes could sway me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry opens a drawer a bit more forcefully than necessary, rifling through for a somewhat clean shirt. 

“Oh come off it, Harry. This has happened every time she comes around for the past year. Louis lets it slip and then you make it your goal to toe the line of alcoholism. And either me or Niall try to play catch up so you don’t look like such a pathetic fuck.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, but there’s nothing to say. Even his hangover craved a drink when Louis mentioned Eleanor’s name. He shrugs into his shirt and gives his hair a shake.

“It’s just…it’s just that it feels like he’s rubbing it in everyone’s face that he’s in this perfect relationship and they’re so in love and he’s so oblivious to the fact that I’m still hurting from whatever we were and I can’t tell him because he’s so fucking happy!” Harry cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Zayn sits up and sighs.

“Look, Harry, you know he obsesses over it because the fans say-“

“I fucking know what the fans say! They were right weren’t they? They figured out more than he ever did, and then it all went to shit because he found someone else. And that someone else just happened to be the perfect girlfriend to take out, to be photographed with, to-“

“Harry, stop.” Harry looks over at Zayn, who’s pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. He opens them with a sigh. “I know that whatever you guys had got messy right around the time management started to tightened the reins, and that he conveniently met her right when they told you guys that you needed to sort yourselves out and it looked fishy alright? But if he says he’s happy, I gotta just go with it and accept it and get bloody pissed with you because I love you, you know? And it must really suck to have to sit back and watch all this and think about whatever you guys had and that’s why I’m sitting here nursing one of the top ten worst hangovers of my life for you. And I’ll keep doing it until we’re grey and wrinkly downing scotch in the nursing home yearning for the glory days and mourning the loss of our youth.”

Harry cracks a smile and drops down next to Zayn, leaning his head against his shoulder. Zayn puts an arm around him, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair.  
“You’re already a wise old man, you know that?” Zayn snorts at that. 

“And you’re a downright sorry excuse for a man whore. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Zayn.”

“I’m serious! I know you’ve really gotten this whole broken-hearted thing down to an art form, but maybe it’s time to embrace your image. Have a little fun. Maybe the man or woman of your dreams is right here in downtown Los Angeles, stumbling around a night club just waiting for you to sweep them off their feet.”

Harry sighs. Zayn’s beginning to sound like a broken record, giving this spiel in nearly every city they’ve rolled through. But it has been a while. There has been a few casual fucks, a couple dozen girls and boys who’d been fun on the dance floor, but that’s all. No feelings, no repeats, just hastily written notes that “we should do this again sometime” that he had crumpled up and tossed in the waste basket, not even bothering to look at the numbers scrawled underneath. 

Another knock at the door. Zayn gets up to answer as Harry speaks.

“Maybe in Australia.”

“Maybe what in Australia?” Niall walks in, looking all too put together for the amount of drinks Harry had seen him down the previous night. Damn Irishmen.

“Harry needs to get laid,” Zayn says with a smirk, pushing a hand through his hair. Glitter rained down on the carpet. 

“That time of the month?” Niall said with a smirk. Zayn snorted.

“What?”

“You’re P.E.S-ing.”

“What?!”

“Pre-Eleanor Sighting,” Niall finishes. Zayn cackles. Harry groans and throws a pillow in Niall’s general direction, missing spectacularly and knocking the lamp from the desk. 

“Good one, Haz, remind me to never be near you when you’ve got your hands on a gun. And you should thank me ‘cause I’ve got a brilliant cure for your P.E.S.,” Niall picks the lamp up gingerly, setting it back on the table.

“And that would be…”  
“Breakfast!”

 

A half- hour later the trio makes their way through the hotel lobby, out the back exit, racing behind a gaggle of shrieking fans and ducking into a dingy diner with a sign advertising “You got it? We’ll fry it.” An annoyed looking waiter takes their orders, never once meeting their eyes.

“He’s probably thinking of how not to have this place be overrun by teenaged girls once they figure out our fine asses have graced this premise,” Zayn says, taking a sip of overly concentrated orange juice and cringing at the bitterness. 

“He should be thankful. Might get him laid.”

“Niall, he’s at least 40.”

“So? America’s weird.”

Harry rolls his eyes at Niall and Zayn. As much as he would have preferred to spend the day alone watching whatever sad movies the hotel channels had to offer, he’s grateful Niall and Zayn bothered to drag him out. His life has gotten quite depressing suddenly. 

“So,” Niall begins, leaning back in his chair, “Us lads are woefully without love here in this fine city and have a whole week off before we head to the great Down Under. What mischief can we get ourselves into?”

“Well we’ve just snuck off now and had a near brush with death by fan girl, so I’d like to propose anything that doesn’t involve dealing with teenage hormones,” Harry says. As flattering as it was to be so desired by thousands of girls, he’d rather not deal with them in person, especially flocks of them. One or two coming up to him calmly, sure, why not? But their never seemed to be just one. Ever.

“Ah but Harry, think of the possibilities, some of them have got to be legal!”

“Niall, I’ll speak on Harry’s behalf when I say no hooking up with someone who’s plastered our faces onto their bedroom walls. Imagine waking up after a good romp and staring at yourself hanging from the ceiling,” Zayn shudders. Harry nods in agreement, sipping his water. The waiter returns and delivers their food, looking no more happier than before. Niall leans in close as he left.

“I swear you’d think one of us had killed his mother or something with the shade he’s throwing us.”

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want this place overrun with fan girls either. It’s nice the way it is. Quiet and peaceful,” Harry takes a bite of his eggs.

“Nice? Haz, the walls look like a cat projectile vomited everywhere and then pissed on it.”

“Niall do I need to remind you that not all of us have iron stomachs?”

“Sorry, Zayn.” A pause. “So. Moving on. Tonight. I for one am game to indulge you, Harry you lucky boy, in another round of ‘Drink Every Time You Feel The Pangs of Love Lost.’ Or for me, ‘Drink Every Time Harry Looks Like He Wants To Off A Couple Snogging On The Dance Floor.” Harry throws a greasy sausage link at him. Niall snatches it out of the air and promptly takes a bite. 

“I could handle another round. S’not like we’ve got anywhere to be in the morning. No interviews until Wednesday, right?” Zayn said. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m not really that bad-“ He starts, but Niall cuts him off.

“Harry, embrace it. The pig that gave us this bacon was happier than you when he was in the slaughterhouse. You’re a tragic soul and when your mates offer to drink your sorrows with you, you accept it. No questions asked,” he stabs his fork in the air to punctuate. “Ay, waiter? Could we get a bottle of ketchup?” Niall cranes his neck, looking for their sullen server. 

Harry glares down at his breakfast. He may be a tragic soul, but not without cause. He’s had his heart ripped out and stomped on. And if ‘embracing it’ means another mind-blowing hangover like today then…

Well. Then some sacrifices are necessary to make. 

 

When Harry finally falls into bed that night (morning, technically speaking), head swimming with the most recent round of shots, Louis and The Girlfriend are still nowhere to be found. His head is spinning and his eyelids are heavy, but his body is buzzing, pleasantly numb with alcohol. He feels light. He feels free. He feels the bed move as Zayn collapses next to him and hears a grunt from across the room as Niall follows suit in Louis’ empty bed (he tries to force his alcohol-addled brain not to think about what that means). He blindly gropes for the light switch, wincing as the clock falls off the nightstand and hits the ground with a bang. He hears Zayn groan a bit at the noise and Niall slurs some unidentifiable remark. He takes a deep breath. Darkness creeps in as exhaustion overcomes him, and once more he’s drowning in a sea of blue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Modest! has been getting my letters, because I still own nothing.
> 
> Warning for smut at the end.

He must have nine fucking lives or something because he’s certainly dying again, this time he’s sure of it. The room is spinning and he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. Groaning, he rolls over, searching for the reason he’s now awake and aware of this obscene pounding in his head. 

“Now THIS is a sight to behold,” chirps a familiar voice. A door slams shut. Harry winces, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at Louis standing in front of the door, Liam behind him wearing a slight frown.

“Is that a pilgrim hat on Niall’s head?” Liam asks, walking around Louis and towards Niall’s unconscious form.

“Some New England college kids gave it to him, told us if we were coming to America we had to look the part,” Is his pillow talking? Harry turns and nearly rolls onto Zayn. “Watch it, shithead!” comes his muffled response.

“Perfect, that’s a great look for today’s interview. Definitely good to spice things up,” Louis says, grinning. Why the fuck is he so cheery? There has to be some law against good moods in the presence of good hangovers. He better save some of it for later if they’re expected to make it through an-

“Interview?” Harry croaks, startling himself with the harshness of his morning voice. His mouth tastes like a wet sock. Tongue feels a bit like one too.

“Yeah, mate it’s Thursday! Only interview left before we fly out to the wonderful land of Oz! All this partying blending the days together, eh? Nearly September already. Work hard, play hard, eh? Though you all seemed to have flipped it around a bit,” Louis smirks, patting Zayn’s head affectionately. He yelps as a pillow smacks him across his face. “You sure move quick for a hungover bastard, Zayn. Godspeed getting up now then, chop chop!”

“It’s a blessing,” Zayn mutters, rubbing his eyes blearily. Harry grunts a laugh into his pillow. A soft groan comes from across the room as Niall wakes in the next bed, muttering.

“Mates, we’ve got a pilgrimage to make.”

 

It takes nearly an hour for Harry, Niall and Zayn to get up, shower, change and assume a fraction of the composure that Liam and Louis maintain. The ride to the radio station alternates between silence and Liam or Louis sharing their outing yesterday. Harry’s vaguely aware of what they’re saying- a shopping center downtown, an Italian place with a sauce that rivals Liam’s mother’s. He holds back a sigh, leaning his head against the backseat window of the car. They sound happy, at least. He hates himself a bit for wincing at the light tone in Louis’ voice. He hears it nearly every day and yet it still misses it, at least misses the way it sounded back when they would be huddled in the back of the car, holding private conversations that the others would never know of. Harry focuses his eyes towards the sky over the packed freeway. The sky’s a brilliant shade of blue, with not a single cloud marring it. Harry closes his eyes and imagines his body floating up, up, up, becoming totally suspended in the blue, drifting peacefully. For a few moments nothing surrounds him, but soon pressure’s setting in, and he’s trapped, unable to move as the crushing force surrounds his body and-

“Harry? Wake up mate, we’re here,” Louis’ gently shaking his shoulder, blue eyes shining. Harry blinks a few times, realizing he’s the last one in the car. “Lou’ll kill you if we’re late, you’ve got massive bags under your eyes. Killer night, eh?” Louis flashes him a winning smile, hand settled on his shoulder. Harry’s stomach flips as he fixes his eyes on Louis’ hand.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head clear. “Yeah, it was killer.” Louis cocked his head to the left, smile never once leaving his face.

“Good lad. Was a bit worried the tour was sapping the life out of you. Can’t have that, eh? The beautiful land of Oz awaits us!” Louis reaches forward and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him out of the car. Harry stumbles the few steps to curb, squinting at the bright California sun. He can’t help but flashback to the last time they had been down under. Long past the Good Days, it had been the last of what his mind likes to call “Louis’ Relapses.” His memory brings forth a series of flashes- a dark bar, Louis’ laugh so close to his ear, the smell of whiskey on his breath as Louis’ brings their faces closer, closer-

“Earth to Harry, interview’s gonna happen in the station, not on the sidewalk,” Louis’ walked towards the door, turned toward where Harry remains standing and looking at him expectantly. With a final shake of his hair, Harry jogs the remaining distance to the door. It’s been straight sailing for Louis since the Wellington Incident, literally. He’d apologized profusely, saying it was a mistake and it wouldn’t happy again and would Harry please not tell Eleanor because he thinks that he wants to really keep pursuing a serious relationship with her? And Harry had bit his tongue, saying of course, it was a mistake and they were no worse for wear. 

What a load of horseshit, he thinks as he grabs the door from Louis’ grasp. His hand catches on a flyer and it flutters down to his feet. The word MISSING jumps out at him in bold letters, followed by a picture of a smiling girl with shoulder-length dirty blond hair. Harry pauses, sending a thought to whoever this girl and her family, then moves to catch up with the rest of the boys.

Missing can’t be all that bad, he thinks guiltily. 

 

The interview can be summed up in one word: ordinary. Their interviewer is a young local radio host, Jake something-or-other, who’s got close-cut brown hair and a smile that looks a bit too forced. But perhaps that’s why he’s doing a radio interview and not a television one, Harry thinks in a moment of bitterness after what must be the fifth or sixth question focusing on Eleanor and Danielle. 

Niall helps the interview end strong with a joke about the party they’d been to last night and the blasphemy that is the American drinking age. Harry plasters on a smile and laughs along with the others and that’s it. Another notch on the belt, another session of divulging the same facts and tidbits the fans still seem to eat up. Little things he says that he doesn’t think twice about that will be splashed across every magazine in the coming weeks, each claiming to have the inside scoop. The girls will eat it all up.

“Alright well thank you for coming by boys, and safe travels to Australia. Once again, this has been Jake Westley with One Direction. And here’s their hit single, “Kiss You.”

The intro to the song began as the “Off Air” sign lit up. Harry politely shakes Jake’s hand after the other boys, promising to stop by the next time they’re in the area and the usual thanks for having them and really, Los Angeles is a lovely city. Louis pulls them into a huddle as they file out of the studio.

“Right boys, Liam and I have got to see the ladies’ off to the airport, but where the fun of a 14 hour flight without a healthy hangover? Last day in the states, let’s get properly wasted and unleash havoc upon our unsuspecting hotel. Boys night in!” Louis claps his hands together, grinning. Niall and Zayn high five and Harry does his best impersonation of Thrilled Friend, meeting Louis’ eyes hesitantly. His hangover has cleared, but he’s not so sure he should be trusted with alcohol around Louis without the protection of a crowded nightclub. Drunk Harry is stupid. Drunk Harry is spontaneous. Drunk Harry’s mostly responsible for Sober Harry’s distress, with words thrown out carelessly, actions he had hoped would speak louder than words.

Yes, Drunk Harry is definitely going to cause problems. 

 

They disband back at the hotel, Louis and Liam to the their girlfriend’s hotels and Zayn and Niall back to bed. Harry’s left with nothing but his mind to keep him company for the afternoon.

He’s tired, he decides, but the interview’s perked him up enough that sleep won’t come easy. He makes his way to the coffee shop in the hotel lobby and orders a large tea, choosing to bring it up to his room to channel surf rather than risk being seen in the little seating area by the lobby. Louis’ running to pick up booze on his way back from the airport, being the only one of legal age, so he should have a fair amount of time to himself in the room. Settling in his bed, he flips absentmindedly through the television’s offerings, stopping on some crime show that’s about half way through. A girl’s crying as police question her about her boyfriend’s murder. It takes Harry all but a few seconds to figure she’s lying, she’s actually killed him, and his mind zones out as he turns to glance out the window of his room, mid-afternoon sunlight streaming in.

A beautiful day out and he’s holed himself up in bed. To be honest, he thinks he isn’t quite up to enjoying the beautiful weather. The nagging pressure across his chest is back, and he rubs his neck absentmindedly as he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs.

He feels empty, he realizes. The pressure could easily crush him because he’s got nothing on the inside anymore. The interview that morning had just been another opportunity to give, give, give a little bit more of himself away to the world and get nothing in return.

A gunshot rings out from the television.

And then there’s Louis, he thinks. Louis, who swept him off his feet from their first meeting in the X Factor bathrooms. Harry thinks of stolen moments back in that house, soft touches in the too small beds, eyes meeting across the room thinking look at us, we’re keeping this great secret from all of you, when the reality was that everyone knew.

Everyone always knew.

Except then those stolen moments became fewer and fewer as people’s opinions grew louder and louder. They have an image to maintain, they were told. You came in third on a reality TV show, there’s a long way to go, it’s important you understand what you have to do to sell records. Harry had held his head high, was prepared to endure whatever was thrown at them, because they were HarryandLouis and even though they never officially declared their relationship whatever they had was worth it, right?

Harry rubs at his eye, finding a bit of moisture trickling down. No. Not again, not now, he’s shed too many tears over a relationship that never was. As much as he had loved Louis, he’d never opened his mouth to say hey, we have something special and it’s worth fighting for. That much is his fault. He bit his tongue, and Eleanor waltzed right in and management ate up that relationship. The Power Couple of One Direction.

Harry takes another sip of his tea. It’s gone cold. Turning away from the godforsaken sunlight, he mutes the television and burrows under the covers. Maybe if he sleeps, he’ll dream of the sea again, of the bright blue waters that caress and crush him all at the same time.

Maybe the sea will wash all thoughts of a blue-eyed boy right out of his head. 

 

It was not to be.

“Harreh!” Thump. Something heavy lands across his back. Louis.

“Gerroff me, you wanker,” Harry mutters, shifting in Louis’ tight grasp weakly. Louis’ laughs, rolling over Harry’s body to the other side of the bed to look Harry in the eye.

“Sweet dreams, sleeping beauty?” he says, quirking an eyebrow.

“Best I ever had, ‘til someone interrupted them,” Harry says. Louis chuckles.

“Well someone had to get your lazy ass up. Can’t be wasting our last night! C’mon, we’re in Niall’s room, gonna throw on Fifa and get properly trashed,” Louis pushes himself off the bed, extending a hand out to Harry. Harry grabs it, hoisting himself off the bed and following Louis out of the room and down the hall. He hears Niall swear loudly and assumes the rest of the boys have already started their night. Louis knocks loudly.

“Open up mates I’ve found the lost one!” Louis calls. Zayn yanks the door open, a bottle of vodka in hand.

“Yeah! Let’s fucking go boys!”

 

Harry is properly trashed. His head is swimming as he watches Niall lick some unknown substance off of Liam’s lower back, Zayn wheezing with laughter above them. Something’s not right. Something’s missing.

Louis.

On wobbly legs, Harry stands from where he had been sitting and walks towards the balcony. He can feel a bit of cool air blow in as the curtain flutters from where it covers the door. It feels refreshing. He slips through it and finds Louis leaning against the railing, watching the traffic 15 floors below. Louis turns, eye’s glassy and unfocused. He grins and weakly beckons for Harry to come over.

“I’d say I’m royally fucked, Haz!” he slurs out slowly as Harry takes a step forward. He can feel his brain going into autopilot as he crowds Louis, suddenly overwhelmed by a different type of intoxication. He places his hands on the railing on either side of Louis’ hips, effectively trapping him. Louis looks him in the eye uncertainly.

“Wasn’t that the plan?” Harry says, never breaking eye contact. His voice is rough and deep with too much alcohol. He shouldn’t be doing this, his head cries, but he can’t move, can’t even look away. Louis’ eyes are much, much too blue. Louis gives a weak laugh.

“Yes it was, Hazza, but we’re going to-“ No no no no, Harry thinks as he feels his body surge forward, mouth swallowing the end of Louis’ sentence. He feels Louis freeze, then relax as he kisses him softly, then all too roughly, lips smacking. He feels Louis’ tongue trace his bottom lip hesitantly as he moves his hands from the railing to Louis’ hips. He opens his lips, letting Louis’ tongue slip in. It’s all too familiar and all too much for his alcohol-addled mind to comprehend. Louis’ arms have wrapped around his neck, hands buried in the base of his curls as he tries to erase any space between them. 

Oh.

Louis’ hard against him, and he can feel his own arousal spiking. He moves back, intending to breathe, but finds his mouth drawn to Louis’ smooth neck, licking and sucking at a spot just below his ear that always elicited a strong reaction. He hears Louis’ moan and feels hands at his waist, sliding under his shirt to grip his hips as Louis’ head falls back. After all this time, could still find all Louis’ sensitive spots, knows exactly how to wind him up. He feels powerful. It’s been far to long since he’s held that power. He abandons Louis’ neck and drops to his knees.

“Harry…” Louis says weakly, panting. Harry’s hands are already at his zipper.

“Just…just don’t think, alright Lou?” He doesn’t know who’s speaking, he certainly wouldn’t let himself say that, wouldn’t let himself be on his knees and unzipping Louis’ jeans on a fucking balcony, for Christ’s sake. 

Louis’ hands move to grip the railing as Harry yanks his jeans down. Harry can see he’s fully hard and mouths at the outline of his cock, Louis’ hips twitching forward as he groans again. Harry makes quick work of Louis’ briefs and licks teasingly at a spot on Louis’ hip. Louis groans in frustration, hips squirming to try to get Harry’s mouth where he wants it. And when he looks like that, delightfully debauched, hair mussed and chest heaving, Harry can hardly deny him.

He licks his lips and takes Louis all the way in one fluid motion. This he could never forget, he thinks, the feeling of Louis hot and hard in his mouth as he bobs back up, tongue teasing the shaft as he makes his way back up. 

Louis’ hand moves to tangle in his hair, pushing him deeper. Harry grins, sucking lightly and letting his tongue lick all the way back down. He hears Louis whimper, saves the noise for later when this memory will surely be tainted with regret. His own cock is straining against his jeans, but he needs to give, give, give, to keep Louis here before he can run away again.

He slips one hand behind Louis’ thigh and brings him in deeper, looking up at Louis and meeting his eyes. Louis lets out a moan, mouth drawn in a tight O, and oh, does Harry know that face. He relaxes his throat and Louis comes hard seconds later, legs trembling, and Harry swallows it all down before removing his mouth. He looks back up at Louis, whose eyes are shut, and he’s breathing hard through his nose. Harry stands, cock still hard.

“Lou…”he says, voice rough and raspy. He feels and sees Louis shudder slightly, and then his eyes snap open, wide and glassy. 

“Fuck,” Louis says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry this can’t…this isn’t…fuck.” Louis runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head rapidly. Harry reaches to touch his face.

Louis swats his hand away and Harry feels his heart crack.

“I have to…fuck, Harry, I have to…we have to…” Louis doesn’t finish a single sentence, but in a flash his briefs and jeans are back on and he’s pushing past Harry, moving back into Niall’s room and Harry feels another crack form. Gone. He’s gone again. The alcohol settles back in, and he squeezes his eyes tight to fight off the wave of dizziness that washes over him. He isn’t surprised Louis’ ran, but it doesn’t hurt any less. He tilts his head back and lets out a rough laugh that sounds like a dry sob into the night sky. He feels deliriously intoxicated, but at least it numbs the pain in his heart for now. 

A breeze ruffles his hair and somewhere, a dog howls. But none of it matters, because Harry Styles is truly, royally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Wasn't expecting to update so quickly, but I finished up this week's exams so I took the night off. Thank you to everyone who's checked the story out, and leave feedback! I'm always looking to improve my writing, as my knowledge is virtually nothing o.O


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tour's really put a wrench in my attempts to reach the boys' management and ask for their souls.

Days like this Harry really missed the days before they started flying by private jet. While it was nice not to have to deal with fans swarming the terminal and packed planes, he missed the noise now.

It’s kind of difficult to hide when it’s just you and your band on a gigantic plane. For nearly 17 hours or so.

Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe the tension between him, Louis and the other boys (who had been quick to figure out what had happened on the balcony). Harry hasn’t said a word all day, choosing to keep his head down and avoid eye contact with anyone of them. Currently, he is trying is very best to feign sleep in a chair towards the rear of the plane, turned away from where the rest of the boys were lounging, an old movie playing on the television. But his mind is racing, refusing to be silent long enough for him to actually sleep.

He fucked up. Bad. He knew being drunk around Louis was dangerous; he was near irresistible sober, so how was he supposed to resist intoxicated? Louis won’t even so much as stand within ten feet of him now. He’s completely closed himself off, playing on his phone or becoming all too involved in a conversation with Josh whenever Harry had looked over in the airport. 

He hears someone plop down in the seat across from him and his eyes shoot open. Zayn.

“Well then,” Zayn begins. “Somehow, we are only 3 hours in to what I can safely say is the most awkward plane ride in the history of plane rides.” Harry lets out a dry laugh. 

“You think it’s awkward? Did you drunkenly blow your best friend and ex-whatever on a hotel balcony last night? Because please, share these details, I’m eager to share this feeling with someone,” Harry says, rolling his eyes and glaring.

“You…well, you fucked up, Harry.”

“Really Zayn? You think you have to tell ME that?” Harry really wishes Zayn had stayed over at the front of the plane. This is not a conversation he needs, for the sake of his sanity.

“No, but…what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, that was the problem wasn’t it?” Harry hisses, trying to keep his voice low. “Look, it happened and I’ve never been more sorry in my life, but he didn’t exactly push me away. And I’m pissed at him for that. Because he sure looks like he hates me, and he has no right because it fucking let it happen, alcohol be damned.” Zayn leans back in his seat, looking defeated. Harry looks down at the ground, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Silence hangs in the air for a few moments. He wants to hate Louis, for being so willing, for being so drunk, for not taking over in that  _Louis_ fashion. God, he just wants to feel the burn of that hatred rather than the dull ache in his heart right now.

“Are you ever going to get over him?” Zayn asks suddenly. Harry looks up. He thinks for a moment.

“No, I don’t imagine I will,” he says finally, and he doesn’t think he can remember the last time he said anything more honest.

 

 

They’ve got nearly three weeks to kill in Adelaide, Australia before their first show, and Harry thinks he’s on a course to spend three-quarters of it in his hotel room, watching re-runs of shitty soap operas and just generally wallowing in this misery. Zayn pops in every once and a while to make sure he hasn’t offed himself, but the boys for the most part take the hint that he wants some alone time. He goes through the motions in their rehearsals, laughing when appropriate and responding to direct conversation, but always excuses himself when the boys start brainstorming the evening’s entertainment.

He can’t remember his life ever being this depressing.

He’s about two and a half hours into a Law and Order marathon, lounging in only his briefs, when someone knocks- no, pounds- at his door. Groaning, he pulls himself out of bed. The peephole reveals an annoyed looking Zayn. He opens the door without a word. Zayn says nothing, going directly to Harry’s drawers and rifling through them.

“Um, hi Zayn, have you been having a nice afternoon?” Harry tries. No response. A plain t-shirt gets tossed at his head.

“Put that on. We’re going out tonight,” Zayn says, moving to the next drawer and rifling through Harry’s pants.

“Uh, we? Why?” Harry asks, setting the t-shirt onto the bed and ducking just in time for a pair of jeans to sail over his head and land on the pillow.

“Because,” Zayn starts, turning around, “you have been a miserable twat lately, and we’ve only got two more days until the tour picks back up, so in reality, this is our last night to properly go out, so we’re going out. All of us. And don’t,” he raises a finger, seeing a protest begin on Harry’s lips,” start with anything about Louis. Ignore him for all I care, but we’re having one night out together before it’s back to the stage.”

Harry stares at him, mouth gaping. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I’m using your bathroom, if you haven’t started dressing by the time I’m out, I will force you into those jeans and judging by the size of them, that won’t be a pleasant process for either of us,” Zayn turns and walks into the bathroom. Harry remains frozen for a moment, then reluctantly pulls the t-shirt on over his head. Law and Order drones on in the background. Shame. This episode had been getting interesting. He glances at the bedside clock. Nearly 7:00 pm. Shit. Maybe it was time to get out of the room.

He’s just tugging the jeans past his hips when Zayn comes back out of the bathroom.

“So where exactly are you taking me?” Harry asks, buttoning his jeans.

“Niall wants to go to this little club on the shore, ‘s got a nice big patio outside it’s like right on the water. Liam just talked to Paul, car should be here in about 20 minutes.”

Harry sighs and flops down onto the bed on his back, rubbing at his eyes viciously with the heel of his hand.

“Zayn, I don’t know if I can face him,” he says. He feels Zayn sit down next to him.

“Harry, it’s been more than two weeks. If you can’t be around each other now, what the hell are we suppose to do for the rest of the tour? Man up and apologize,” Zayn sounds exasperated. Harry lifts his head up to look at him.

“You know it’s not that simple Zayn…” Harry starts, but Zayn shakes his head.

“Well, it’s about time to make it that simple, because I’m sick and tired of tiptoeing around you two. Figure this the fuck out or ignore the whole thing for all I care, but I want to be able to go out with my mates without worrying that one’s gonna have an emotional breakdown afterwards,” Zayn gets up and heads for the door. “Meet us in the lobby in 15, no excuses.” And with a slam of the door, he’s gone.

Harry remains on the bed, stung. Zayn’s words hurt, but there was no denying the truth to them. He barely ever considers the strain put on the other boys, watching him and Louis be whatever they are (can they really even be called friends anymore). But he’s not sure he can just “figure it out.” He’s fucked up in the head, there’s no denying that. Months of pining and wallowing have left him fragile, and he doubts he could get one sentence of apology out to Louis without cracking. And forget about ignoring it. Hasn’t that been what he’s been doing the past year or so? And what good has that done? They keep returning to the same rotten spot. 

His phone buzzes. Liam.

_Did zayn talk 2 u b  down in 5 cars coming niall says were gettn birthday drnk since his actual birthday wuz lame by his standard_

Harry sighs. Alcohol is really the last thing he needs around Louis. But maybe, if he has a little and turns it into liquid confidence, he can make it through at least an attempt at an apology.

He glances over at the mini fridge in the corner of the room. It takes him all of two seconds to make a decision.

 

 

The bar is in a superb location, it really is. Right on the shore and all open in the back so that a cool breeze could blow in through the patio and maintain a comfortable temperature.

In theory, Harry thinks as he weaves through drunk patrons, because right now it’s hot as balls in here. He makes his way from the bar slowly, fresh drink in hand, and practically falls in Liam’s lap when he gets back to their private table.

“Whoa, cowboy!” Liam exclaims, then promptly bursts into a fit of giggles, head lolling back. Harry joins in. Everything’s moving in slow motion. He feels someone pull him into a sitting position. He shakes his head, eyes shut, trying to get a moment of clarity. When he opens them, he can make out three people sitting around him. No, six. No, nine. Wait. Three again.

“There’s too many of us,” Harry slurs, “we can’t be One Direction, I see, like, five directions.” He bursts in a fit of giggles again. He can make out Niall’s booming laugh over the rest of them.

“Atta boy, Haz, way to get back in the game!” Niall says, slamming his pint down on the table, foam sloshing over the side. Harry lets his head loll back and his eyes dart around. Something’s missing.

“Where’s Lou?” he asks slowly. He hears Zayn grunt from somewhere near him.

“Outside. Don’t worry ‘bout him, Haz, we’re more than good enough company for ya,” Zayn says. He goes to throw an arm around Harry, but Harry’s already stumbled out of his seat.

“No, I’ve got-I need to talk to him,” Harry can feel tunnel vision set in. He needs to find Louis. He needs to say- well, he can’t really remember what he needs to say right now to be honest, but he has to say something. It’s important. He hears protests from behind him as he makes his way towards the patio. It’s darker out there, lit only by strings of lights on the railings, and he blinks a few times to adjust his eyes. Finally, he spots Louis leaning against the railing by the stairs, chatting to three girls in ridiculously tight skirts.

Louis must see him stumbling towards him, because he says something to the girls and then pushes himself off the railing and walks towards Harry. Harry thinks he’s swaying a bit, but that could just be his own blurry vision tricking. Louis puts a hand on Harry’s arm, stopping him. Harry stumbles a bit but catches himself.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Louis asks. Harry cracks a smile, suddenly giddy.

“Just needed to talk to you, Lou!” he says, cringing a bit at the slur of his words. He watches Louis’ eyes dart around, looking at the other drunk patrons who don’t seem to mind two international pop-stars standing in their midst.

“Is this really the best time?” Louis hisses, suddenly sounding agitated. Harry furrows his brow, confused. And pissed. Something about Louis’ tone makes him very, very pissed off.

“Yeah, it’s the fucking best time, Lou!” Harry says. He doesn’t realize he’s shouting until Louis’ head snaps around, checking people’s reactions, and then he’s being half-dragged down the stairs to the ground below. Louis stops at the bottom and turns around.

“Are you mental? Do you have any idea could hear you? Do you want the big story in Australia to be “One Direction’s Firey Bar Fight” or something?” Louis exclaims. Harry clenches his fists.

“Oh right, gotta be concerned about our _image,_ haven’t we, Louis? Wouldn’t want people to think something’s going on that _isn’t._ Because god forbid they’re right! God forbid they figure out something about us!” Harry’s not really sure he’s making sense at all. Words come to his mind in flashes and he attempts to articulate, but his brain is so fuzzy and he’s gotten so, so tired and he just wants to go back up to Zayn and Niall and Liam and sit and maybe close his eyes for just a bit. His chest tightens.

“OF COURSE that’s what it’s about, Harry! You’ve sat through the same meetings I have! You know how important our image is! It’s all we’ve got!” Louis’ repeatedly pushing a hand through his fringe. His eyes are looking anywhere but Harry’s face, like he’s afraid of what he’ll see there. That only serves to infuriate Harry more.   

“Right, right, that’s why I’m ‘sleeping with’ all these girls, because it’s my _image._ Just like you’ve got the perfect girlfriend, because that’s your _image._ How is Eleanor? Are you guys so in love that she won’t care hearing about you chatting to some fit girls while she’s a million miles away? Or are you tired of her now, too? Because at least let me ring her and warn her how much it fucking _hurts_ to watch someone leave you for the next best thing that comes around. She at least deserves a warning from someone who knows,” He sees Louis visibly recoil. Somewhere deep down, Harry’s subconscious cringes at the words. They’re sloppy, they’re harsh, but they’re the truth.  

“Harry…I-I’m sorry for anything I’ve said, or done, or-“ Harry shakes his head furiously.

“I’m done hearing _I’m sorry,_ Louis! That’s all you say! I just want to know _why_. Because maybe if you can look me in the eye and tell me why you left me, why I wasn’t good enough, or even just say that none of it never meant anything, then maybe I can stop fucking  _being in love with you_ and get a grip on my life again! Because I thought we could be more, I really did, but clearly I just wasn't good enough!” Harry’s chest is heaving now. He tries to steady himself, but the world is rocking outside of his control. His breath is coming in shorter and shorter gasps. Louis’ eyes have widened at Harry’s words, and he looks frozen. His lips are moving, but Harry can’t make out the words.

“What?” Harry asks. He tries to take a step forward but the whole Earth shifts.

“I-I don’t know! I can’t…I can’t be-you don’t-“ Louis’ talking a nonsense at a mile a minute, and Harry’s mind is spinning trying to keep up. He pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing as a stabbing pain makes it’s way through his chest. He needs to get out of here. To anywhere. He’s vaguely aware of his feet moving, and he’s stepping backwards, away from where Louis’ is vigorously shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” he chokes out before he turns around. Louis’ head snaps up just as he forces his legs into a sprint. He hears Louis call out something but his minds shut down. He’s aware of the pavement switching to sand as he leaves the bar behind, hears the thumping bass-line of the music ease into the calm rumble of the nearby ocean. His shoes catch in the soft sand, and he's vaguely aware of himself kicking them off, leaving them somewhere on the vast beach far behind him as he begins running again. His legs burn. His chest burns. His stomach is churning.

Harry stumbles but forces his legs to keep moving. He’s going parallel to the ocean he thinks. The horizon is swaying. He can see the moon’s blurry reflection on the water and he pauses to take a few heaving breathes. His stomach flips and he sinks to his knees, retching and vomiting up the obscene amount of alcohol he’s managed to consume. He dry heaves for a few moments, and a few tears escape his eyes as his abdomen contracts painfully. Gathering himself, he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and unsteadily rises to his feet.

The night sky is still, stars flickering. The steady thrum of the club can still be heard, taunting him. Waves lap lightly at the shore as he stumbles forward again, legs carrying him just away, away.

There’s a flickering orange light ahead, he thinks. Fire. His chest is still tight but his stomach is no longer churning. He becomes to stumble towards it, mind on autopilot, whirring around one word.

_Louis._

Louis’ face swims into his vision and suddenly he can’t breath again. He can’t keep going on like this. He feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff, and anyone’s words could be strong enough to topple him over. He can’t keep playing nice and smiling and pretending that there isn’t a knife stuck through his heart.

_Some love was made for the lights,_

_Some kiss your cheek and good night_

He can hear a guitar faintly as the flickering light gets closer. His head feels light. A man’s voice becomes louder and clearer as he drags himself forward, strong against the quiet of the night.

_Slow it down, Angie come back to bed_

_Rest your arms, and rest your legs_

Harry feels his legs give and he sags forward, letting out a small cry. His heart is racing, blood pounding in his ears as he catches himself on his hands and knees. Lights explode in front of his eyes as he lands. The sand is still warm from the day’s sun, and it must have a magnetic force because he feels helpless as body collapses onto it. He feels blackness creep into his vision, tries to fight it but-

No.

Not this time. Harry can feel exhaustion in every fiber of his being. He let’s his body go, letting out a small moan as he blacks out.

The guitar continues to strum, the man singing, and a bird cries out somewhere over the sea

_And when it came to love_

_We were not good enough_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! So, finally figured out formatting a bit more yay! Also I suck at editing so feel free to call me out on any mistakes. Also, I've been posting the link on tumblr (in-the-blinkofaneye) so check it there! Feel free to ask any questions there too. That's a side blog for this story mainly, my main blog isn't Larry, 1D or anything centric really but if you want to check it out just ask!
> 
> Don't anticipate an update for a bit I'm about to get SWAMPED with coursework but keep reading and sharing, you're all amazing!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's move this plot along a bit!
> 
> I own nothing but my mind and the characters it creates.

When Harry awakes, his first thought the sand is a hell of a lot softer than he thought it would be. He remembers stumbling out of the bar to the beach, and judging by the blackness after that, he must have passed out somewhere down there, luckily far away from the water it seems. He’s always had shit luck though, so it’s very likely his back is covered in bird crud or his trousers are full of crabs or something

That’ll be a story to tell the lads, if he can even find his way back. God, he hopes it’s still too early for people to be out. He blinks his eyes open and-

Oh.

He’s not on the beach at all. His face is mashed into a soft pillow, and he appears to be in a bed. Shit. He’s truly fucked up this time. God only knows who could’ve found him in such a state on the beach, carried him home, and had their way with him. His heart rate picks up and he shoots into a sitting position.

“Oh good! I was beginning to think I actually put a dead body in my bed!” chirps a female voice. Harry whips his head around. There’s a girl about his age curled up in an armchair by the window of what he now presumes is a bedroom, looking up from a notebook on her lap. She’s got a tan face with delicate features and dirty blond hair pulled into a messy braid. She’s smiling broadly at him, brown eyes crinkling. Not a threat, he thinks. Yet. He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He’s slowly realizing the dull pounding in his skull that’s slowly taking over.

“Um, yeah, I guess I’d call myself alive. Who are y-Hey wait!” Harry calls. The girl’s jumped out of the armchair and slips out the door before Harry can get in another word.

“Just a second!” she calls. Harry just stares at the door, frozen. Soon enough she comes back, notebook gone. She’s holding a plate of eggs and toast and a glass of water. Harry feels his stomach rumble feebly.

“Figured you’d need something to take the edge off that hangover you’ve surely got brewing. You were quite a sight to see last night,” she says cheerfully. Harry doesn’t know whether he wants to hug her or hit her as he eyes the food warily. He settles for repeating his previous question.

“Who are you?” he asks. She sets the plate and glass on the bedside table and returns to her armchair.

“Name’s May. And you are?” she says pointedly. Harry stares at her dumbly.

“You don’t…you don’t know who…” he begins dumbly. May laughs.

“Course I know who you are, Harry Styles. Figured I’d give you a chance to be someone else, if you wanted. Put us on an even playing field. You aren’t exactly hard to pick out of a crowd, especially with all that ink cover you,” she gives him a once over. Harry glances down, and for the first time realizes he’s shirtless. He scrambles to peak under the covers and finds his trousers missing too, and he let’s out a shout of surprise. He hears May laugh again.

“Relax, I respected your virtue and all that bullshit. You vomited on yourself as Doc and Chase were carrying you up here. Clothes are in the wash; you can have them back whenever. And honestly, I’m not going to _poison_ you with breakfast, would’ve been much easier to off you last night when you didn’t know up from down,” she gives him what his mother always termed “the look” and pointed to the plate next to him. Harry reaches out slowly and sets it on his lap, trying a forkful of eggs. They’re greasy and delicious and he can almost hear every cell in his body moan in contentment. He scarfs them down quickly, pausing only to take a gulp of water here and there. May watches him, smiling.

“So, is there a reason you were piss drunk, alone in the middle of the beach last night? Or is that the new trend in the life of a pop star? I don’t exactly keep up with all the trends these days,” May says, and it all comes rushing back. The bar. Louis. The yelling. Running away, leaving Louis standing at the base of the stairs. He can’t breathe again.

“Hey, hey, come on, breathe with me now,” May’s at his side, voice gentle, rubbing his back lightly. He takes two deep, shuddering breaths, calming himself down. “What’s got you all wound up like this?”

Harry shakes his head, fisting the sheets in his hands. “I, uh, there’s was just a fight, it was silly really, but the tour’s been long so we’re all a bit on edge and…” he trails off, not really sure where he’s going with this tale. May cocks her head to the side.

“Was it Louis?” she asks. Harry’s head whips up, eyes wide.

“How…?” he starts. Shit. He can’t even remember getting carried up here, who knows if he was drunkenly rambling as they went. May purses her lips.

“You kept muttering to yourself as we were putting you to bed. A whole lot of…nonsense, mostly, but I kept hearing ‘Louis’ distinctly,” she says slowly. Harry feels himself relax a bit. Nonsense was ok. Louis was ok, really, could’ve fought about anything.

“Yeah, just stupid stuff. I’ve been a bit thick-headed, really,” his mind scrambles for something, anything to veer off this topic. It settles on what’s right in front of him. “You…you’re not Australian, are you? You’re accent, I mean.”

May looks at him for a moment, eyes unreadable. She gives him a small smile. “Nope, you’re right. I’ve been down here about three years now, since I was 16. Grew up outside of San Francisco.”

“Did your family move down here? That’s quite the haul,” Harry says. He’s reaching, he knows it, but the farther the conversation gets from Louis, the better. For his mental state, if nothing else. To his surprise, May’s face darkens for a moment.

“That’s…well, that’s a bit complicated. You’re gonna have to swap me some secrets if you want that out of me, hun,” she pastes a smile on her face, keeping her voice light. She gets off the bed and walks over to the dresser by the bedroom door and unplugs something sitting there. As she turns, Harry recognizes his phone.

“Uh, Zayn had called earlier, round 9 I think? I said you were still out cold, that I wasn’t going to kidnap or murder you or any of that, but I think he was still a bit distraught. It’s uh, almost 11, I told him you’d call when you were up, so,” she tosses his phone at him. He fumbles for a moment, finally unlocking the screen. There are still 2 missed calls, as well as two dozen texts. He groans when he sees that it is, in fact, almost 11. They have a dress rehearsal at 4, and the bar itself had been about a forty-five minute trip from their hotel.

“Thanks,” he finally says, rather lamely he thinks. May nods her head and walks towards the door.

“The laundry room’s the first door on the left when you walk out of here. I’m gonna be just outside, out on the porch. Just come out when you’re done doing…damage control or whatever,” she says, wincing at the last words. Harry flashes a small smile, thankful for her sympathy. He has no idea what’ll be waiting him on the other side of the line. “Good luck!” she calls finally, shutting the door behind her. Harry lets out another groan. He can do this. It’s not the first time one of them has wandered off piss drunk. Niall escapes all the time. He steels himself, selecting the first missed call from Zayn (7:49 am, _really_ how was he even up that early?), and listens to the ringing on the other end. 

 

 

Distraught wasn’t nearly a strong enough word.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” roars Zayn as soon as the call connects. Harry cringes.

“Um, got really really drunk apparently?” he responds weakly. He hears Zayn scoff at the other end.

“Do you have any idea how much we’ve been freaking out? You just disappeared on us at the bar, and Louis said you ran off on him so we went down to the beach and we couldn’t find you and _Jesus Christ do you have any idea what could’ve happened?!”_ Harry sighs as Zayn hisses the last words out. He hears commotion on the other end and Niall’s voice comes over.

“Harry! Where’d you end up mate? Hopefully not some old woman’s laundry room, that was a really scarring experience and she was just _mean_ I mean I didn’t _want_ to be in her hamper,” Niall says. Harry lets out a bark of laughter. That had been one of the most memorable nights of the X Factor days, and the producers had put them on house arrest for weeks afterwards.

“No, nothing interesting like that, Nialler. Just some girl’s house, not really sure where yet. She seems normal enough. No psychopath vibe yet, at least,” Harry replies. Niall chuckles.

“Well hurry up and get back before Paul has an aneurysm. I’ll tell him the old lady story, see if I can’t calm him down a bit for ya.”

“Thanks, Niall. Hey, can you put Zayn back on before you hang up?” Harry asks. Niall says goodbye and he hears him holler for Zayn. Zayn’s voice comes over tiredly.

“Did Louis say anything to you?” Harry asks cautiously.

“Just that you got upset and ran off, but he looked uncomfortable so I doubt that’s all that happened. What did you say to him, Harry?” Zayn says exasperatedly. Harry shifts on the bed, quiet for a moment.

“It’s uh, it’s nothing important. Or new. Just the usual. But that’s the last time I swear. I’m uh, gonna go see if I can get a lift to the hotel. I’ll call if I need a ride, ok?” he hears Zayn grumble in response and then the line goes dead. He stares at his phone for a moment, then pushes himself off the bed.

The other side of the bedroom reveals a hallway leading to a living room furnished much like the bungalow back home- quaint and simple, with big wide windows letting in plenty of natural light. He finds the laundry room easy enough and spies his clothes neatly folded on top of the dryer. He slips them on and heads back to the living room in search of the patio. A sense of nostalgia washes over him as he once again thinks of the bungalow- of bring the boys there, drinking by a dying fire, sneaking off with Louis when they though everyone else was asleep. Climbing trees in the moonlight to better see the stars. Zippering their sleeping bags together to “conserve body heat.” Quiet kisses in the wee hours of the morning, still buzzing with alcohol and the thrill of being a band, live performances just around the corner. It had been perfect. But nothing perfect is ever really _real_ , he thinks mournfully. A gasp startles him out of daydream. He meets the eyes of an older woman, hair snowy white and face creased with laugh lines. Her skin is rich and tan, and she can’t be that old because she still holds herself up straight and strong.

“Goodness, dear, you startled me,” she exclaims, hand on her chest. Her voice has a thick Aussie accent, and has yet to be weakened by age. Harry pegs her at being right around 50 or so.

“I, uh, sorry, I was looking for, uh…” he trails off, unsure of how to explain his presence. She smiles softly.

“Oh you’re the boy May had Rich bring up last night. Gave us quite the scare, you did dear. She’s out on the patio writing. Go straight on through the kitchen and you’ll see the door,” she gestures down another short hallway. He gives a weak smile, nodding his head.

“Thanks, uh…” he trails off again. God, these people must think he’s a bit messed up in the head. Then again, that wouldn’t be too wild of an assumption.

“Gloria, dear,” she offers up a hand. Harry takes it cautiously, and finds her grip surprisingly strong.

“Harry,” he says. Gloria smiles again. She’s got a lovely smile, and must have been quite a heartbreaker in her younger days, Harry thinks. Her green eyes still maintain a mischievous light to them.

“A pleasure, Harry. Glad you’re in a bit better state this morning,” she says cheerily. He offers another smile, then sets off down the hall. There are photographs adorning nearly every space along the wall, of the sea, of ships, of people. They’re quite good, he notes, pausing at one of the profile of a brown-haired girl holding an exotic flower, her face almost completely obscured by her hair. He looks at the next one, and finds himself looking straight into the blue eyes of a tan, sandy-haired boy. He’s got a broad smile on his face, as if he was just beginning to laugh, and has an expensive-looking camera held as if he was raising it to snap a picture of whoever had taken this photo. He appears to be standing on a cliff of some sort, as there’s nothing but blue sky surrounding him, giving him the appearance of floating. Words had been scrawled in black in the sky above his head. 

_Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea,  
And East and West the wanderlust that will not let me be_

“It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by! For the seas call and the stars call, and oh, the call of the sky!” Gloria has come up behind him, smiling softly. “Austin found that poem when he was 9, tried for weeks to convince Rich and I he’d written and was some child prodigy.”

“Is he your son?” Harry asks, gesturing towards the picture. She nods slowly.

“He passed around Christmas last year. Leukemia. He’d been sick since he was a boy, but…” she trails of, looking at the picture fondly. “May took this picture the first summer she was with us, and I had to have it framed. Much better than what an eulogy or obituary could offer.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, looking back at the picture. The Austin in the photo couldn’t have been much older than he was.

“It’s alright, dear, what role could you have possibly played? Go on, now, tell May to get you back to your friends, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do before your show tomorrow,” she winks at him and walks past him and into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher to the left of the room. Harry stares. A strange family. He walks towards the glass door that marks the edge of the kitchen. He can see May sitting at a table, hunched over something in front of her. He pushes the sliding glass door open and pauses, taking in the view.

The house sits directly on the beach. Steps lead down to the soft yellow sand, and soft ocean waves lap the shore about 50 yards away. A soft breeze blows through the trees that frame the patio, giving it natural shade from the sun. He steps forward and takes a seat next to May, now noticing the same notebook as before set in front of her. She’s scanning words already written, making marks and crossing out phrases.

“What are you writing?” he asks. She sets her pen down and looks at him.

“A song,” she says simply. 

“About anything in particular?” he questions, craning his neck to look at the page. She slides it out of his view.

“A bit about you,” she says. Harry glances back at her and furrows his brow. “You’re interesting,” she elaborates. “It’s not everyday I find a strange boy drunk and muttering about a boy he’s hopelessly in love with.”

Harry stares at her, mouth agape. His subconscious sure liked to get him in worlds of trouble. May offers a soft smile, then returns to her notebook.

“Do you even know me well enough to write a song about me?” he asks curiously.

“I only said it’s a bit about you. It can be a bit about everyone. You just provided the direct inspiration to start writing at all,” she says, never looking up. She grabs her pen and scribbles down another line. Harry’s quiet for a moment, watching her. He admires songwriters. Words never come easy for him. He has so much cooped up inside, but can never find a way to let it out, translate it into music.

“Do you sing?” he asks finally. May looks up again.

“Just a bit, for me normally. My brother devoted his life to it, left home for L.A. when I was 12 to try to make it big.”

“Did he?” May’s quiet, meeting Harry’s gaze, her face unreadable. She sets the pen down and closes the notebook.

“Last I heard he was interning at some radio station,” she replies finally, voice hesitant.

“Don’t you talk to him much?” he asks, curious. He couldn’t imagine letting Gemma pack up and leave, cutting off all contact. May’s silent again. 

“I think you’ll have to agree to tell me your story first, before I tell you mine,” she says finally, holding his gaze. He opens his mouth to respond, but she holds up a hand. “But now’s not the time. We need to get you back before your rehearsal, and I need to make a stop on the way into the city.” She stands up, tucking the notebook under her arm.

“Will I get to hear the song?” Harry asks, standing up to follow her. May smiles brightly at him, reaching for the glass door.

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around till it’s finished.”

 

 

To his surprise, the car May has him get in is a fairly new looking Ford F150, black and shining in the noontime sunlight.

“It’s not mine,” she says as his eyes rake over the exterior. “Austin bought it a few years ago, but now it just kind of sits around most days.”

“Were you and Austin close?” Harry asks. May gets in the driver’s side as he follows, opening the passenger door.

“You could say that,” she says shortly. Her voice carries an odd tone. Harry doesn’t say much after that, choosing to watch the surroundings change as they drive along the coast. It is beautiful out here. Everything seems soft and warm and inviting. Harry can imagine himself just laying on the sand all day, maybe letting the waves lap at his toes as he just forgets. 

May pulls off into what looks like a junkyard. Cars and boats alike are parked around, in various states of repair and disarray. A younger boy, maybe about 16, jogs over to the car from a small shed by the entrance. May rolls down the window.

“How’re we doing, Sam?” she asks. The boy grins.

“Finally riggings came in yesterday! Still waiting on that last engine part but that should be in by Wednesday at the latest. Still looking at about a week and a half, Chase says!”

May grins. “Perfect! I’ll grab the riggings on my way back from the city. Thanks, Sam!” The boy salutes, jogging back into the shed. May turns the truck around to exit the yard. The trees thin out as they reach more main roads.

“What are you building?” Harry says.

“Awfully curious about my life, aren't you? When do I get to ask the question?” May glances over at him but he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re building the ship of dreams, so to say.”

“The Titanic?” May snorts.

“Wishful thinking,” she says. “It’s an old fishing boat. We’re renovating it and sailing back to the States out of Sydney, around the first week of October.”

"Why?" Harry asks, curious. That by no means was a simple boat trip. The flight from L.A. to Adelaide was nearly 17 hours, he couldn't imagine how long the journey was by boat.

"We're all in need of a change, I guess," May says quietly. Harry fixes his eyes on her, trying to figure her out. Sharing his story in return for hers is beginning to sound more and more tempting. 

“We’ll be in Sydney around then,” Harry says before he fully processes the words. May glances at him briefly as she turns onto the freeway.

“Then I guess you’ll have to see me off. I’ll let you hear the song as a parting gift, if you tell me a story, sound good?”

“What kind of story?” Harry asks. May shifts lanes, pulling ahead of an old beat-up Toyota.

“Your story,” she replies. “We’ll do the whole, show you mine if you show me yours type deal. Your curious. All your questions just scrape the surface of what you really want to know,” She shifts back over, getting off the main exit for the downtown area. "I'm the same way, I guess. I have a million and one questions in my head to ask you, but I don't think you're ready to answer them." Harry doesn’t reply, rather switches over to give directions as they approach the hotel. They pull into the parking lot about ten minutes later, Harry guiding her to the back entrance by the loading dock. 

“Give me your phone,” May says after she puts the car in park. Harry puts his hand to his pocket, but doesn’t pull the device out. May rolls her eyes. “Clearly, something is off between you and your friends, or else you wouldn’t have been piss drunk on the beach last night. After your show, I’ll let you hear the first draft of the song if you’d like. I imagine I’ll be done by tomorrow night.” Harry withdraws his phone, handing it to her. She types in her number and hands it back. He slips it back into his pocket, unbuckling and opening the car door.

“It was uh, good meeting you, May. Thanks for saving my ass, I guess,” he says as he steps out of the car.

“It would’ve been a shame to let it go to waste. Good luck, Harry Styles,” she says, and with that, she’s off, using the turn around and turning the corner around the side of the hotel. Harry stares after her for a bit. She was safe, he decides. She was safe and seemed wise and maybe, she could even help to sort his head out a bit, in ways that the boys couldn’t simply because they were too involved. Harry cringes at the thought of the boys. They were just beyond those walls, and they were certainly not going to be happy with him. He lets out a long sigh,  and walks into the service entrance, feeling an awfully lot like he’s marching to his own execution. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will be a bit sporadic due to my upcoming exams, but thank you for reading and sticking with it and leave your feedback (:


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget about me yet? :) nice long bit to promote some character bonding because i'm shamelessly obsessed with the folks my mind has created!
> 
> Still no claims to 1D, if I did I'd be telling Lou to bitchslap Tom right about now ;)
> 
> Song is "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" originally by Poison, but I highly recommend the Rock of Ages Broadway version (which is what I was listening to, and I split up the parts similarly!)

Harry had been in some very uncomfortable positions in his life. Being part of an internationally famous boy band led to some terribly awkward fan encounters. But even the craziest fan interaction couldn’t top how he felt now, sitting on a couch in between Zayn and Louis watching some football game on the television in Liam’s room. Niall is yelling profanities at the goal keeper from an arm chair, but Harry doesn’t know why, as he keeps his head down, scrolling aimlessly through his Twitter mentions, not bothering to read many of them.

He’s been doing his best to block the past couple of hours from his mind. Rehearsal had been dreadful. Zayn had chewed him out in the hallway upon arrival, Liam kept shooting him concerned looks that got him so flustered he’d missed his cues three times, Niall had been so hungover he had to keep running to the bathroom in between songs. And then there was Louis. Louis had probably actively done the least but affected him the most at the same time. He had just gone through the motions, half-heartedly singing his parts and remaining silent in between numbers. No jokes, no sarcastic comments, nothing. He’d had his head done, effectively avoiding meeting Harry’s eye the entire practice. Management had let them out an hour early, telling them to use the time to screw their heads back on so they could actually put on a show the next night the was more than a bad X Factor audition.

And here they are, after Liam suggested a down night so they could relax before the tour picked up and so that management wouldn’t slaughter them during the final sound check tomorrow. He feels Louis shift once again to his left, leaning onto the arm of the couch and away from him once more. Harry shuts his eyes briefly, steeling himself. Silence is almost as nasty as the bitter words the keep replaying in his head, a mix of _I’m sorry_ and _our image_ and _I can’t_. His subconscious sure has its Louis impersonation down pat.

He snorts at a particularly crude fan drawing of himself and Niall and feels Louis’ eyes on him. He tilts the phone a little towards Louis, hears him scoff but doesn’t look up to see if he’s smiling or frowning or who knows. Who cares? He feels his phone vibrate suddenly and tilts the screen back towards himself, going to his messages. There’s a new one from May.

_Called myself from your phone…songs not done but gloria’s been asking if you’re alright and watching me type this. Can you confirm you’re alive. Don’t respond if you’re not._

He cracks a grin at the older woman’s concern. From their brief interaction he’d decided he liked Gloria very much- sweet and wise, and most importantly unconcerned about the reason he had woken up in her house, only that he was ok.

_I’m still around ! Thought rehearsal was gonna do me in but they let us out before someone could kill us for being dreadful_

He’d no sooner put his phone back down then it buzzed again.

_Good she’s content now, boys give you a hard time about your one night stand?_

He rolls eyes before typing out a response and setting it on his leg.

_You don’t know the half of it. Thought you maintained my innocence?_

“Didn’t management just chew us out again about our international bill?” Louis says tersely. Harry freezes. His voice isn’t cold, so to say, but there’s certainly a lack of emotion to it.

“S’not-“

“Didn’t stop you from texting Eleanor all through dinner now, did it?” Zayn cuts in coldly. Harry glances at him, flashing a grateful smile.  He hears Louis cough awkwardly and feels him shift again. His phone buzzes again from his lap.

_Course I did, not my type anyway. Too moody and troubled, no offense, though I suppose I didn’t meet you in your most attractive moment_

He frowns at the screen, but another message comes in before he can think of a reply. 

_You stressed? Need an escape?_

He stares at the message for a long time. On one hand, an escape from this horrible, horrible room sounds like heaven. On the other, management had clearly hinted that they preferred the boys to stay in tonight, especially after such a dismal rehearsal. Even Zayn would probably voice some concern about him leaving on such short notice to go gallivanting off with a complete stranger. His phone buzzes again as he’s thinking.

_Come outside we leave in 20_

Well. That takes care of that dilemma. He springs up quickly from the couch, accidentally kneeing Louis in the process. He slips his shoes on quickly and makes a break for the door.

“Oi, Hazza where you jetting off to?” he hears Niall say. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

“Just ah…just fancy a smoke,” he lies pathetically, gritting his teeth. He hears Zayn scoff.

“You’re always telling me it’s a nasty habit!” Zayn cries. Harry opens the door and slips out hastily, not bothering to defend himself. It’s a lame excuse, he knows, but he honestly couldn’t care less when staying in that room felt quite a bit like drowning. He turns to head towards the back stairs and promptly runs into something soft and solid. He stumbles back, trying to catch his balance.

“Wow, you’re shit at sneaking around,” comes May’s voice. She has one hand on her hip, eyeing him up and down. The hood of her blue UCLA sweatshirt is pulled up to cover her hair.

“How did you even get up here?” he asks, pushing his hair out of his face. She smirks.

“Your security sucks, and I actually _do_ know how to sneak around. Come on, car’s waiting, can’t be wasting our precious time now, can we?”

 

 

Turns out, not only is there a car waiting, but it’s Gloria sitting behind the wheel, hair pulled into a loose bun. She smiles widely as Harry climbs into the back seat.

“Lovely to see you again, dear!” she chirps happily, putting the SUV in drive.

“You too, Gloria.”

“Did May tell you where we’re off too?” she asks over her shoulder. Harry stares ahead blankly.

“Uh, no,” he says dumbly, glancing over at May. Gloria takes a hand off the wheel and smacks May’s arm.

“You just showed up and kidnapped a pop star? At least have the decency to explain!” she tuts sharply. May turns around, smiling. 

“I’ll assume you saw the pictures of Austin back at the house, yeah?” Harry nods, remembering the startling photo of the blue-eyed boy. “Well, before he was in the hospital, we would come out to this little cove down by the water on Sunday nights, light a fire and just…be. So we keep the tradition going now. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we sing, I can remember a few times near the end where no one said much of anything.” 

“Who’s ‘we?’” Harry asks. Gloria makes a left, turning onto a gravel back road.

“You’ll meet them when we get there. Normally it’s Chase, who’s our neighbor, and Sam, his brother- we saw him at the boatyard! And then you’ll meet Breezy too! She’s quite the character, dating Chase now although they keep it on the DL. Doc normally comes too, but he’s working the night shift, right Gloria?”

“Yes, his turn for the Sunday night ER shift, if it’s quiet enough he may come out later,” she says, pulling up next to a dark sedan that’s parked in front of a strip of woods. She turns the engine off. “It’s a rather rag-tag bunch, but we get by.”

They step out of the car to a warm breeze ruffling the branches above them. Gloria pulls out a flashlight, leading the way to path that winds through the trees. They move slowly, eyes adjust to the dim light of the night. Harry feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out, seeing _Zayn_ light up on the caller ID, turns the device off and tucks it away. He can begin to hear a guitar as the reach a clearing, and he pauses with a gasp.

The cove is beautiful. The sea spans out for miles ahead of him, and he’s separated from it by a mere 30 yards or so of soft white sand. A fire is burning about halfway between him and the water, and he can make out three figures sitting on logs around it. As they come closer, he can make out a man, a younger boy who looks to be in his teens, and a young woman sitting around the fire, watching it intently. The man is strumming aimlessly on the guitar. The woman looks up at them and smiles instantly.

“May!” she calls, coming up and throwing her arms around her. May laughs, returning the hug affectionately.

“Welcome back, Breeze! How’s the fam?” May asks, pulling away. The woman flips her long, blond hair back behind her, never losing her bright smile.

“Oh, you know. Nan lecturing me about settling down, Mom’s concerned we’ll be lost at sea forever, Dad never setting his beer down to give two shits. Riley has a girlfriend though! I swear, that kid was just 9 years old the other day and now I’m gonna have to teach him the wonders of safe sex, my god,” Breezy, presumably, pauses, eyes darting over at Harry. Her eyes widen, and Harry gives a small wave. “Oh my _god_ you weren’t lying, were you? Harry motherfucking Styles, here you are!”

Harry smiles nervously. “Here I am,” he says lamely, holding out a hand. “Lovely to, erm, meet you.” Breezy grabs it and gives it a firm shake. 

“Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys! You look tired and lost enough to fit right in, no worries!”

“Bree,” comes a deep voice from the fire. The man has stopped strumming his guitar, brushing a lock of dark hair from his eyes. He’s looking at Breezy fondly, but cocking an eyebrow disapprovingly.

“Aw Chase, you know he does, just look at him! Almost identical to when you when you were young and lost, you old fart,” she walks back over and plops down next to him, planting a kiss on his cheek. Chase looks up and smiles at Harry.

“Welcome, Harry. Nice to meet you,” he says pleasantly. Harry nods at him, keeping a weak smile on his face. May and Gloria have taken seats on the far side of the fire, and he follows them and sits to May’s left, next to Sam, who he does recognize from earlier.

“Good to meet you formally, man,” Sam says. His voice is a bit higher then his brothers, and Harry’s first thought is that it has a similar tone to Louis’. He grimaces without realizing, quickly returning Sam’s greeting and looking down, embarrassed. He hears Breezy chattering on about her family to May and Gloria, but chooses to keep his focus on the crackling flames in front of him. They twist vicisouly in the still air, radiating warmth as they lick at the sky. He thinks he'd quite like to be engulfed by the flames, if only to feel some warmth for a while.

“So, young Harry,” Breezy says from across the circle, cutting into his musing. “How does one British boy bander end up with the likes of us?” Harry looks up at her, confused. She smiles softly at him. “I mean, we all have a reason to be here. We’re all screwed up in the head a bit. What’s got at you?”

“Bree,” Gloria warns quietly. Breezy’s head snaps towards her, but Harry cuts her off before she can defend herself.

“Unrequited love,” he says before he can stop himself. Breezy nods, studying him as if he’s the most interesting thing she’s seen. Chase begins strumming the guitar again, simple chords that seem to soften the air around them. Harry can feel the tension being pulled out of him by the notes.

“Ah, a classic. Such sad, twisted bits of fate, isn’t it? Tell us, who’s gone breaking your heart?” she tilts her head to the side, blinking innocently at him. Harry takes a deep breath, feeling May’s eyes on him from beside him.

“It’s a bit of a long tale,” he starts. May puts a hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to tell it, we want to hear it. That’s essentially why we come out here each week,” she says. Harry meets her eyes and nods. Gloria smiles warmly at him from beside May. He clears his throat to begin.

“So, I’ll assume you guys know my band mate, Louis?” There are murmurs of agreement. “We, uh, we met at The X Factor auditions, before we were put in a band together, and we just kind of clicked, you know? Like you meet someone and it’s like they’ve always been there, it’s always been _them_ and no one else matters? That’s how we were. And we were lucky enough to get put in a band together, and I thought that I was riding the ultimate high.

I hadn’t really been with many people before then. I mean, I wasn’t that young, I’d messed around with a couple of girls and blokes, but nothing serious. Nothing like what I felt whenever Louis would talk to me, or touch me, or just look at me. There were times back then where he would look at me and I swear the whole world would freeze around us. He had a girlfriend, so we never really were officially an _us_ , not even when we would sneak around to snog in the hallway closet or in one of our bunks late at night. And I…I just felt like I was drowning whenever I was around him, and I guess in the back of my mind I kind of knew it was more to me than it was for him, but at least it was _something.”_ Harry can feel his voice breaking a little a bit, but he coughs and pushes on.

“The uh, the rest of the boys found out after we got kicked off of The X Factor, like two months after or so. Actually, Niall walked in on us in a rather uh, compromising position. But they were fine, they kept their mouths shuts, and we just kept being whatever we were.

And then summer came and he broke up with Hannah out of the blue, and I couldn’t help but think _this is it, this is him showing he wants more_. And I was so, so ecstatic, and I knew I needed to tell him how I felt, that I thought we could really, truly make it together. But then someone from management caught us kissing after an interview, and Louis freaked out. I didn’t speak with him for nearly a week, and it never was quite the same- he was distant, cut off, flinching every time I would go to touch him.

Then one day I came back to the flat and found him snogging Eleanor on the couch, and that was that. He said that he had broken up with Hannah to chase after her, that we needed to stop what we were doing, because Eleanor was ‘amazing’ and ‘so fit’ and she could be _the one.”_ He feels something wet trickle down his cheek, and brushes away a tear he hadn’t realized he had shed.

“That was rather shit of him, don’t you think? Sounds like a proper douche,” Chase says sullenly, still strumming his guitar aimlessly. 

“It was, I know that, but I know how scared he was to come out. He hadn’t been with any guy before, had to deal homophobic pricks back in school who questioned his sexuality, and he was scared so I never pushed him. I think management knowing really freaked him out, so he did whatever he could to protect himself. And I’ll just always have to wonder if he loved me like I loved him." _Like I still love him. "_ I know he loved me as a friend, but I’ll never know how deep that went, especially now when we barely can call ourselves friends anymore. I don’t know how to be around him anymore. He used to keep me sane, because being in the spotlight really sucks sometimes, but no it’s…” Harry trails off, unsure how to finish.

“Fucked up,” Gloria offers bluntly. May laughs and Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, staring at the ground intently.

“Sounds like you’ll fit right in,” Chase says softly, changing the chords that he’s playing a bit. Gloria hums a familiar tune as Harry kicks at the sand.

“Go on, Gloria, sing! I love this song,” Breezy says. Harry looks up at her, and sees her eyes look a bit watery in the firelight. She offers him a sad smile. Gloria clears her throat as Chase restarts the chords he had been play.

“We both lie silently still, in the dead of the night. Although we both lie close together, we feel miles apart inside,” she sings beautifully, her voice deep, lovely and rich in the still air. Breezy opens her mouth to continue, and her voice is lovely as well, light and bubbly to match her persona.

“Was it something I said or something I did? Did the words not come out right, though I tried not to hurt you, though I tried…”

“Girl, but I guess that’s why they say,” Gloria sings. Harry turns her head to look at her. Her eyes are shut, brow scrunched in concentration as she brings the song to the chorus. “Every rose has its thorn, just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song, every rose has its thorn.”

Harry feels an odd rush of emotion as he watches the people around him. Breezy rests her head on Chase’s shoulder as he continues playing, staring at him fondly. When Chase begins to sing, it’s rich and husky, a nice contrast to Breezy’s soprano, Harry thinks.

“I listen to our favorite song playing on the radio, hear the DJ say loves a game of easy come and easy go. But I wonder does he know, has he ever felt like this, and I know that you'd be here somehow if I could have let you know somehow, I guess…” Harry watches intently as both Breezy and Gloria join in for the chorus again. Sam hasn’t jumped in at all, he’s just looking at his brother adoringly.

“Every rose has its thorn, just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song, every rose has its thorn.”

He feels May shift next to him, and then her voice cuts through the night and he inhales sharply. Her voice easily outshines the rest of them, sharp and smooth, with just the hint of a country-esque twang, and it’s like he can feel the heartbreak in the words she’s singing, piercing his own heart.

“Though it's been a while now can still feel so much pain, like a knife that cuts you the wound heals but the scar, that scar remains,” she glances over at him, giving a small nod and reaching out to pat his hand. He understands the unspoken message and thinks quickly as Chase finishes the interlude.

  
“I know I could have saved a love that night if I'd known what to say,” he cringes as his voice cracks with emotion, feeling his own desperation in the lyrics. May grips his hand lightly and he sees Gloria smiling out of the corner of his eye, and wills his voice steady enough to continue. “Instead of makin' love, we both made our separate ways. But now I hear you found somebody new, and that I never meant that much to you, to hear that tears me up inside and to see you cuts me like a knife, I guess…” He takes a deep breath and isn’t surprised at all when he hears four voices join his own.

“Every rose has its thorn, just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song, every rose has its thorn.” Harry hastily wipes a tear from his eyes and sniffs as they finish, harmonizing effortlessly. Gloria softly brings the song to a close.

“Every rose has its thorn,” she sings smoothly, letting the last night carry in the night air. A breeze makes the fire dance and no one speaks for a moment. Chase’s guitar is silent.

“I think you’ll fit right in with us, Harry, seeing as you’re willing to sing about your feelings,” Breezy says. Harry laughs.

“Do you guys sing a lot? I mean all of you have great voices,” he says, rubbing at his eye once more. He's not sure when he last let a song affect him so deeply.

“Occasionally. None of us want to be like, pop stars or anything, but we rotate around the local bars and clubs occasionally, doing open mic nights or just fooling around until a crowd gathers. All for fun mainly, but sometimes it’s hard to talk about what your mind is going through, you know? And that’s when this is nice, cause we can just let the lyrics speak for us, whether or not they’re our own. It keeps you sane,” May says softly, looking him in the eye. Harry holds her gaze, unable to remember the last time he felt so _grateful_ to a person. 

“Oh, you can come with us tomorrow! I know you have a show, it’s all over the papers, but afterwards you should come out with us! My brother’s bar is having an open mic night all night long! Bring whoever, if you want to you know,” Breezy chirps cheerfully. Harry feels four other pairs of eyes trained on him. 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I think I’d really like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try not to be so shit with updates, almost finals season though so I'm hoping to get one chapter at least done before then! Feedback is lovely from you lovely people :)
> 
> (tumblr: in-the-blinkofaneye)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? An update? Say it's the truth! (I'M DONE WITH FINALS. YAY! I'M DONE WITH MY SECOND YEAR OF COLLEGE. WHUT.)
> 
> Songs are "Swim" by Jack's Mannequin and "Just Give Me A Reason" by Pink and Nate Reuss
> 
> Clearly don't own 1D, cause we're still going through the same ol' bullshit.

Harry had expected the flashing lights to dim after a while, expected the roar of the crowd to sound just a bit duller. But it never does. Every scream, every yell, every pound of the bass drills straight through his body and each flash makes his vision just a bit fuzzier. But if there’s one thing he can do, it’s put on a mask. And so he does, just as always, strutting up and down the stage with a big, fake smile plastered across his face as he sings lyrics that feel empty and meaningless. He heads to the shadows for his water a bit more often than he probably should, but his mind is doing that thing again, where it focuses on _Louis Louis Louis_ for the entirety of the show and it leaves his throat a little bit raw and his body a little bit sluggish.

He sings the echo in Rock Me now like it’s second nature, except for some reason Louis’ _really really_ getting into this performance and he fucking _winks_ at Harry (it was probably to Liam or the audience or _someone_ anyone else but he just happened to glance over at the wrong time) and suddenly he’s drowning again right there on the stage. He grimaces his way through the “What Makes You Beautiful” solo and books it off the stage as soon as the lights have dimmed, sprinting straight to the bathroom and dry heaving over the toilet, sweat beating on his brow.

It’s strangely similar to the days when he’d get stage fright, so bad he’d be in the bathroom hours before they were set to go on. Back then, Louis would pound on the door until Harry would stumble over to unlock it, and they’d stay curled up right on the tile until his breaths evened out and his stomach stopped churning. 

Ironic that Louis went from being the cure to the cause in a few months time.

He’s just sat himself against the wall, eyes closed to try to steady himself, when his phone rings. He fumbles for it in his back pocket, answering it with a grunt with his eyes still closed.

“ ‘lo?” he manages weakly.

“Wow, you sound like shit. Hope you didn’t have to sing like that tonight,” May’s voice chirps from the other end. Harry groans weakly in response.

“Long day,” he says weakly. He hears May start to say something, followed by rustling and Breezy’s voice floating over the line.

“Harry! My new friend-“

“Breezy, give me my phone-“

“But I want to talk to the pop star why do you get all the excitement? I bet he likes me better-“

“ _Breezy give it back!”_

“I’m older and I know he doesn’t swing that way so it can’t be that you’re prettier OW MAY!" 

Harry pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing at the shouts coming over the line. He manages a weak chuckle at some of Breezy’s choice curse words before May comes back on the line.

“Do _not_ befriend this one, it will be the biggest mistake you’ll ever make. Ever,” he hears Breezy yell a muffled rebuttal in the background. “But anyway, just curious if you’re back at your hotel yet, we haven’t seen the tour bus but there are flocks of girls here, so we figured you may not roll up in that-“

“Wait, where are you?” Harry asks.

“The hotel, duh! I’ll take it you aren’t back then. Hurry up, kid we’ve been here for hours!” May exclaims.

“Why are you staking out the hotel waiting for me?” Harry asks. He’s laughing now, picturing the two older girls amongst the swarms of younger fans waiting for the tour bus. His head feels a bit clearer too, and he’s definitely out of the danger zone for vomiting. More rustling comes over the line.

“Do NOT tell me you forgot, you’re coming to my brother’s bar and you’re gonna watch us sing and maybe we’ll throw you up there if we’re feeling mean!” Breezy says shrilly. Harry rubs his temple, squeezing his eyes shut again. He had forgotten. But a night away sounded really, really nice. He rubs his hand down his face.

“Alright yeah, no I didn’t forget. Could you pick me up here, maybe? I’ll give you directions to come around back,” he pushes himself off the floor, bracing himself against the wall.

“Excellent! Oh, goody we’re gonna have so much fun!” Breezy exclaims, rattling on until the dial tone cuts her off. Harry smiles to himself in spite of the dull churning remaining in his stomach. Maybe he would end up surviving this final leg of the tour.

 

  

Miraculously, he manages to get out of the arena without any trouble from the others, simply telling Paul he’s meeting a family friend, which garners him an eyeroll, and avoiding the other boys completely. He’s hiding in the shadows outside the back door by the loading area when he sees headlights whip around the corner. It’s not the same SUV from the prior evening, but rather a dark BMW that comes to a sharp stop in front of him. The passenger side window rolls down and May sticks her head out.

“Come on, pop star, it’s nearly midnight, we’re on a tight schedule!” she hollers. He can make out Breezy behind the wheel, and she honks the horn twice for good measure. He quickly slides into the back seat, tossing his bag against the far door.

“Where are you taking me this time?” he asks as the car pulls away.

“Sea Breeze! It’s been in my family for years, and is obviously responsible for my ridiculous nickname. It’s not the kind of nightclub you’d probably frequent while you’re out on tour, but we’ve built a tight-knit, chill crowd of regulars throughout the years. AND my brother lets me perform whenever, which is awesome. And patrons have no choice but to listen, ‘cause it’s MY bar too,” Breezy takes a sharp left, merging onto the freeway.

“That’s the only reason I keep her around, she gives me a place to sing and I get free drinks,” May says, turning around in her seat. “Gloria’s been the bartender there for years, too.”

“Is this just what you guys do then? Go to bars on Monday nights?” Harry asks, incredulous. “Aren’t you in school or working?”

“Not at that moment! There are the perks of packing up and setting sail for another country- gotta quit jobs, school, etc. so you get plenty of time off,” Breezy answers. “America, here I come!”

May rolls her eyes, turning back towards Harry. “A bit less exciting for me since I’m just going home, but yeah, essentially this is what we’ve been doing while we finish preparing. I’ve been accepted to a handful of colleges that have let me defer until the spring semester.”

Breezy takes the next exit as Harry settles back in his seat. He’d be lying if he didn’t sometimes imagine what it’d be like if he’d never auditioned for The X Factor, or if he’d just been flat out cut during boot camp. Being a normal uni student, maybe traveling like Breezy and May if he so pleased.

Freedom, he thinks. That’s what it would be like.

Harry doesn’t realize the car has stopped until he hears May urging him out. He steps onto the gravel and looks at the building in front of him.

It’s been designed to look a bit rundown, all wooden paneling with big elegant windows tinted just a bit so you couldn’t clearly see in. Palm trees line the parking lot, twinkling white lights draped over their fronds. A few people are gathered smoking around a fire pit by the front entrance, where the gravel turns into sand to form a fake beach surrounding the building. A blue neon sign reads “Sea Breeze” in an elegant font, a dolphin lit up and jumping over the space in between the two words

It’s lovely, he thinks.

“Come on, come on!” May yells, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the front doors. Breezy flashes the bouncer a radiant smile and he grins, nodding at the trio as they head over towards the bar. Harry recognizes Gloria as she pours beers for two men leaning against the counter. Something about walking through the bar feels…strange. 

“Gloria when are we up?!” May exclaims, breathless. Gloria grins and pulls three glasses from underneath the bar.

“I got you in at 12:45, last slot since it’s a Monday night. Should have time for 2, 3 songs then, ay? Chase and Sam are getting your equipment backstage as we speak,” she fills the three glasses with a dark beer and slides them over to the three. Harry takes a sip, taking in the small club for the first time. It’s not packed, being a Monday night, but there is a rather large crowd milling around, either gathered at tables or standing around the small stage, where an older man is singing an old David Bowie song. It hits him then, what’s strange about the situation.

For the first time in a while, all eyes _aren’t_ on him.

“Hello, earth to Harry, did you hear me?” May’s waving her hand in front of his face. He sets his glass down and turns to face her. “I said, we’re gonna do three songs, do you wanna sing the last one with me?" 

“Is it the one you’re writing me?” he asks hesitantly. May shakes her head.

“Still working on the arrangements, and I doubt that, even being musician that you are, you could learn it in the 20 minutes between now and us going on stage. I’ve got one in mind, let’s go check it with the boys.”

  

 

Fifteen minutes later, Harry finds himself seated at a table off to the side with a clear view of the stage. Gloria’s seated with him, and she’s brought him a second and third of whatever beer that was, and his head is buzzing pleasantly. He feels light.

“So Harry, dear, how was night one of your tour down here?” Gloria asks, folding her hands on the table.

“Um, the usual. Loud. It was fun as always,” he mumbles into his glass. He lifts his eyes and sees that Gloria’s eyebrows are raised.

“Honey, do you expect me to believe that bullcrap? You’re barely selling it,” she takes a sip of her beer. Harry coughs, uncomfortable.

“It’s just…it feels like everything’s harder, all of a sudden. Like, obviously you know about the situation with Louis, and it’s like that, and the length of the tour, and constantly being mobbed and having every aspect of my life scrutinized by millions, it’s catching up to me. I’m doubting everything I’m doing and I hate it,” he says, taking a deep breath. Gloria cocks her head, studying him.

“Have they tried to talk you into coming to America with us yet?” she asks suddenly.

“What?” Harry asks, confused, but Gloria’s turned away as May, Breezy, Chase and Sam take the stage. Raucous applause breaks out from the patrons- clearly, this is the reason they were hanging around so late on a weeknight. May takes the front microphone, while Breezy places herself at a back-up one in front of a keyboard. Sam settles at the drums and Chase picks up a guitar, and nods at David Bowie guy, who’s now seated at an old piano.

“Hi everybody! Thanks for hanging out for us tonight, it really means a lot to know ya’ll have stuck with us while we’ve gone through some real rough shit,” May says into the mic. Applause breaks out as she clears her throat.

“So, you know that about 9 months ago now, we lost someone very dear to us, and we haven’t really been playing for you guys much since. Austin was an amazing singer, an amazing songwriter and just…well, amazing overall. I, uh, found some of his older songs and have been working on finishing them like with arrangements and such, and I’m finally ready to share one with you guys, so here it goes. He called this one ‘Swim.’”

The piano begins, and May’s voice fills the room, strong and vibrant.

_"You've gotta swim, swim for your life_

_Swim for the music that saves you_

_When you're not so sure you'll survive_

_  
You gotta swim and swim when it hurts_

_The whole world is watching_

_You haven't come this far to fall off the earth_

_  
The currents will pull you away from your love_

_Just keep your head above_

_  
I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn_

_Memories like bullets, they fired at me from a gun_

_Crack in the armor, yeah_

_  
I swim for brighter days despite the absence of sun_

_Choking on salt water_

_I'm not giving in, I swim"_

Harry hears a sniff next to him, and turns to see Gloria wiping a tear from her eye.

“She doesn’t know it, but he wrote this one not long after meeting her, when we were doing treatments in L.A.”

“Were they…?” Harry begins, unsure of how to finish.

“In love? Oh yes, stupidly so. I don’t know if I’ve ever even looked at my own husband with that much adoration. He’s the reason she’s down here.”

_  
"You gotta swim for nights that won't end_

_Swim for your family as your lovers, your sisters_

_And brothers, and friends_

_  
Yeah, you gotta swim through wars without cause_

_Swim for the lost politicians_

_Who don't see their greed as a flaw_

_  
The currents will pull us away from our love_

_Just keep your head above_

_  
I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn_

_Memories like bullets, they fired at me from a gun_

_A crack in the armor, yeah_

_  
I swim for brighter days despite of the absence of sun_

_Choking on salt water_

_I'm not giving in, well, I'm not giving in, I swim_

_  
You gotta swim, swim in the dark_

_There's no shame in drifting_

_Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark_

_  
Yeah, you gotta swim, don't let yourself sink_

_Just find the horizon_

_I promise you, it's not as far as you think_

_  
The currents will drag us away from our love_

_Just keep your head above_

_Just keep your head above, swim"_

Even with as small a place as it was, the applause that breaks out is just as overwhelming as any audience Harry has experienced. May is smiling shyly, both hands on the mic stand, as people cat call. Harry thinks he can see tears sparkling in her eyes, but she holds them back and introduces the next song. He turns to Gloria, who’s pulled a tissue out to blot at her eyes.

“He brought her here? To Adelaide? How old was she?” he asks. Gloria gives her eyes a final wipe and sniffs.

“Let’s see, we were doing those treatments in the summer of 2010, Austin was almost 18, so she would’ve been about 16 then?” Harry stares at her blankly.

“How does that work? What about her family and such?” Gloria sighs, closing her eyes at his question.

“That poor girl was in an awful, awful situation, the details of which I will leave for her to disclose, but she met him at the hospital and my god, if it wasn’t the most clichéd love at first sight. She had already been planning her escape then, and I’d much rather take a runaway in with me and know she’s safe than her end up god knows where,” Gloria says firmly, looking him straight in the eye. “This trip is her homecoming, and I- as well as the rest of her crew up there- have decided that it need not be one she does alone. Austin lived for the sea, so we’re doing it in his honor.”

Harry digests that information, before looking up at the stage where May harmonizing with Chase seamlessly. Who knew that a dark past of heartache lurked behind such a bright smile.

“If you’re wondering if you can hide the turmoil as well as she can, you can’t, dear. It’s written all over your face,” Gloria reaches over and grabs his hand lightly. “We need to start fixing you now, before there’s nothing left to fix.”

Harry gapes at her, his mind fuzzy. He doesn’t realize the music has cut out until he hears May speaking again.

“So I’ve brought a guest with me tonight who’s in town on a bit of business, and I have the most perfectly relevant song for him to come sing with me, so please, welcome Mr. Harry Styles to the stage with me!” May’s smiling at him, beckoning him up as applause and yells break out. It’s oddly tame, he thinks, compared to what he’s used to when his name is announced. He jogs up the few stairs to that stage, giving the audience a wave as he accepts a microphone from May. She nods at him and he grins, nodding back. The piano starts up again. 

_"Right from the start,_

_You were a thief, you stole my heart,_

_And I’m your willing victim._

_I let you see the parts of me_

_That weren't all that pretty_

_And with every touch you fixed them"_

May glances over at him, understanding her eyes, and Harry forces his mind to _not_ obsess over the reasons she chose this song for him.

_"Now you've been talking in your sleep, oh oh,_

_Things you never say to me, oh oh,_

_Tell me that you've had enough, of our love, our love."_

She steps forward, pulling her mic from its stand.

_"Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough,_

_Just a second we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again._

_It's in the stars, it's been written in the scars_

_On our hearts that we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again.”_  
  
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and let’s the lyrics speak for him.

_“I'm sorry I don't understand_

_Where all of this is coming from,_

_I thought that we were fine,_ (oh we had everything)

_Your head is running wild again,_

_My dear we still have everythin'_

_And it's all in your mind._ (Yeah but this is happening)

  
_You've been havin' real bad dreams, oh oh,_

_You used to lie so close to me, oh oh,_

_There's nothing more than empty sheets between our love, our love,_

_Oh our love, our love.”_

He steps forward to join May at the front of the stage, feeling the strength that only the stage can provide begin to flow through his veins as they join for the chorus.

_“Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough,_

_Just a second we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again._

_I never stopped you're still written in the scars_

_On my heart, you're not broken just bent,_

_And we can learn to love again.”_

He lets himself go on that stage. Nothing, not one night of the tour, has made him feel as powerful as he feels right now, singing about the heartache the he feels cutting through his core each and everyday. His mind is still filled with Louis and lights and screams and cries but it’s background noise, a soft buzz compared to the song he’s giving his all to.

They finish the last round of the chorus to a standing ovation. Harry pushes his fringe from his eyes and feels May wrap an arm around his waist and pull him into a bow. Breezy’s announces the night’s end by singing the chorus of “Closing Time” in a rather mocking tone, and Harry cracks up with the rest of the patrons. Nameless people pat him on the back as he makes his way back to Gloria, May staying to help put the instruments away in the back room. Gloria is beaming at him when he reaches their table.

“You, my dear, were an entirely different person up there. I think you need to stick with us for a bit at least. When do you leave Adelaide?”

“Friday we head to Perth,” he says, still a bit out of breath. Gloria nods.

“Well, rumor has it you’ll be in Sydney when we leave port on the 6th, yes? We’ll take a roundabout way on one condition,” she says, eyes sparkling.

“What’s that?" 

“We’ve all been _dying_ to see the famous One Direction in concert, so bring us along to some shows, yeah?”

Harry can’t do much more than grin and hug her with that request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheers, beautiful people


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg so much time to write now that im on summer vaca  
> yeee-hah!

Perth feels like a dream.

He can’t remember the last time he’s spent so much time consistently away from the other boys, but since May and them packed up and followed their tour bus when they departed Friday, he’s spent nearly every second off the stage in their company, sharing stories, drink at back road pubs or just sitting around his hotel room (he’d requested to be the odd man out to score his own room at the beginning of the Australian tour). They played him their music, sang their songs, and tried (and mostly failed) to teach him their dances.

He’s even met Gloria’s mysterious husband Doc, discovering his name is actually Richard, but the everyone besides Gloria calls him Doc due to his prestigious surgical background. He has the easiest smile of any doctor Harry’s ever met, with a booming laugh that comes straight from his round stomach. He and Gloria share a secret smile that, once upon a time, would make Harry’s heart ache.

For now, his heart and his head feel light, but for the nagging bit of conversation with May right before heading to Perth. 

_“You’re fascinated about this trip, aren’t you?” May asks, watching Harry inspect the completed boat as Chase readies it for the trip to Sydney. They’re standing in the boatyard, Harry leaning against a toolshed while May’s perched on a rickety wooden fence. The sun’s just setting, bathing the area in a strange orange glow._

_“It’s just…it’s just such a cool idea. Like the ultimate getaway, sailing the open seas, the only concern your own survival…” he trails off, pondering. A cool breeze ruffles his hair and he shivers, pulling down the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I’ve traveled the world and it’s never once felt like I was free to shut everything else out and just enjoy the journey.”_

_He looks over to see May scrutinizing him from where she’s seated. The setting sun reflects back at him in her sunglasses._

_“It was Austin’s dream. Who are we to crush it, even if he’ll never take part?” she sighs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You could come with us.”_

_Harry’s eyes widen. She holds his gaze, pushing her sunglasses up on her head, offering a small shrug._

_“I…you know I can’t. I’m on tour, the boys, management…” he shakes his head with each word, forcing thoughts of the open sea and sky from his head. He can’t let himself get caught up in fantasies. He hears a soft thud as May pushes herself off the fence._

_“Just an offer. If you’re still feeling overwhelmed. Don’t get yourself worked up over it, kid,” she pats his arm, walking over to help Chase. Darkness begins to sink in as the sun closes in on the horizon. Harry watches her go, uncertainty clouding his mind._

_He’s beginning to realize he’s become dangerously addicted to these people and their way of life._  

And so, both nights in Perth, he leaves backstage without a word, feeling four pairs of questioning eyes bore on him as he grabs his bag and rushes out the door to the car he know will be waiting.

 

  

She shows up in Melbourne, on October 2nd, a Wednesday, at 11:30 am.

Harry’s just woken up and gone in search of food and tea when he hears Paul talking on his phone in the hallway.

“Yeah, Liam’s gone with Louis to the airport. Hope she’ll cheer him up a bit, he seemed a bit off in Perth. They should be back shortly- actually, I see the car now. I’ll call you after sound check. Great.”

Harry’s frozen against the wall, heart and head pounding. He doesn’t need Paul to say her name to know exactly who will be following them around all day. Without thinking, he pulls his phone out, scrolling through to his last text with Zayn (and cringing that it was from 4 days ago). 

_did u know_

His phone rings moments later and he answers without looking.

“Did you?” he demands.

“Of fucking course I did, Haz, you would’ve too if you’d bother to hang around since we started playing down here! Louis hasn’t been right since Adelaide so management splurged to have El come hang out in Melbourne, maybe Sydney too if she can swing it,” Zayn’s tone is sharp and accusing, clearly not amused at Harry’s lack of presence the past week or so. He picks at a bit of paint on the corner of the wall.

“I…fuck Zayn, I’m sorry. I’ve met some great people, and they distract me, you know? Maybe a bit too much, so I’m sorry, but I really needed the space,” _still need the space_ he thinks, pushing his hair back. He should’ve known better than to shut Zayn out completely too- Zayn, who’s stood by him in the worst of days following the quiet yet destructive collapse of his relationship.

“I get it, Haz, I do, but shit, you could’ve told me! What if I’d wanted to meet them? I can play nice too,” Harry has to laugh a bit, picturing Zayn pouting into the receiver.

“What about tomorrow night?” he asks, before he can talk himself out of it. “After the show, since we’re off before Sydney. Bring everyone. Maybe I need some reconciliation. They don’t hang with the main crowd, so wherever we’re going should either be quiet or incredibly private- no screaming girls, no stares, just us and a hundred or so others who couldn’t give two shits who we are.” He holds his breath, waiting for Zayn’s response.

“That sounds perfect. What do you say to some breakfast right now, though? Niall’s getting impatient and I’m starving. Come by and we’ll order everything room service has to offer?” Harry bites his lip, still uneasy.

“I’ll be there in a few,” he says, heading to drown himself in the shower first.

 

 

“So are we meeting the bitch?”

“Bree.” 

“Well, what else do you want me to call her? I haven’t met her, I’ve no obligation to call her by her name. Sounds like a grandma name anyway.

“Because you’re one to judge strange names, _Breezy_.”

“Of course! If anything I have even more of a right!”

Harry catches Chase’s eye and they share an eye roll at the two girls bickering on the dressing room couch. He’d manage to swing three backstage passes for the second Melbourne show, and was becoming increasingly nervous about leaving these three- well those two- on their own throughout the show. Especially if they were to run into Eleanor. He’d rather not be forced to explain why two random girls were bullying ‘the sixth member of One Direction.” 

“You can meet her when they come to the club tonight. Can you at least try to play nice? I’m trying this new tactic of _avoiding_ confrontations with Louis at all costs. So not cat fights,” he says, just as the door bangs open.

“Cat fight? Point me to it mate!” Niall hollers, striding in with a beer in hand.

“For Christ’s sake Ni, you can’t just carry that around backstage! There could be fans!” Harry scolds, striding over to shut the door quickly.

“And that would make us…” May asks, raising an eyebrow. She shrugs her jacket off, revealing one of the more colorful t-shirts that the merch booth sells. Breezy nearly falls off the couch laughing, her sweatshirt riding up to reveal the bottom of the same shirt.

“Ay yeah, then who’s this lot Haz? This the secret company you’ve been keeping?” Niall sets his bottle down on the coffee table, extending a hand to May. “Niall Horan, the token single member of 1D.” 

“May. Token therapist of 1D,” May replies, shaking his hand with a raised eyebrow. Niall chuckles, moving on to introduce himself to Breezy and Chase. Harry runs a hand through his hair nervously, watching Niall interact with each individual. He still wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d get from the boys with his new ‘clique.’ Although, since Niall could charm a doberman, he was slowly realizing he shouldn’t be quite so nervous, watching Niall fall onto the couch and engross Chase in a conversation about guitar styles.

“Hey? Oh sorry am I…” Louis pokes his head in, trailing off as he takes in the scene before him.

“Lou! Wazzup man!” Niall responds, taking a swig from his bottle. Harry offers a small smile and nod, deciding his eyes would be better trained on his shoes then on Louis’ stupid fringe and stupid eyes and stupid tattoos.

“Lou er, wants us to come touch up before we’re on,” Louis says, fumbling a bit for words. Harry’s eyes shoot up, and he sees Louis glance over each outsider quickly, sizing them up.

“Aw she’s gonna kill me this time if she smells this on me,” Niall groans, gesturing to the beer bottle. May snags it, sniffs it, and takes a swig, meeting Niall’s glance. He grins, patting her on the shoulder. “Cheers, pal. Hey, we seeing you lot later?”

“You best be!” Breezy shouts, staring behind Louis intently, as if she was expecting Eleanor to pop up behind his shoulder. Louis glances over each shoulder nervously. Niall stands and guides Louis out, Harry following. He hears Breezy begin to yell something, her abrupt silence indicating that May had physically shut her up. He shakes his head and grins, jogging to catch up before their make-up artist kills them all.

  

 

 

The trio end up ducking out early from the show, and Harry finds himself headed to the club with the rest of the boys, plus Eleanor. Niall fills the awkward silences with commentary on the various rude signs he’d spotted that night, and Harry leans his head against the window, pretending he doesn’t feel Louis’ eyes drilling into him from the way back seat. He can make out the dim outline of trees and a few houses as they drive through a set of back roads to their destination. May had left him the address of the club, allegedly a sister club of the Sea Breeze back in Adelaide (he was slowly gathering that Breezy’s family was very, very wealthy and collected bars and clubs like some would collect snow globes or old currency).

They pull up and, as promised, there’s no paparazzi, no fans, just a few other folks pulling up and headed into the quite club. The bouncer makes no motion to question them as they enter, simply nodding at Harry as he leads them in and to a booth in the back. May had texted him saying to go ahead and get settled, since Chase was slotted to perform they were helping him set up some of his instruments and tracks as well as catch up with Breezy’s parents, who were dropping in to check the state of their investment. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour or so, she’d said. 

Harry orders himself the largest, most alcoholic drink the club offers.

Eleanor’s just launched into her fifth or sixth tale from her fashion internship in New York and Harry’s just finished attempting to convince himself for the third time not to drown himself in the pitcher of beer sitting in front of Niall when a familiar voice comes over from the stage. He looks up to see Breezy standing front and center, a band settling in behind her. She’s changed out of the atrocious 1D t-shirt and into a simple black crop top with jeans.

“Hello, lovely people of Melbourne! It is my pleasure to introduce the lovely Chase and Samuel Dale, as they’ll be performing with the band this evening in just a few moments! Cheers!” she waves to the applauding patrons, skipping off the stage.

“I do wonder what it would’ve been like to have a proper start-up like this,” Zayn says, watching intently as the band finishes setting up.

“Awful, I reckon. So much uncertainty over whether you’ll succeed! You guys were lucky,” El says with a smile, squeezing Louis’ arm. Louis offers a half grimace/grin as Chase takes the stage with his guitar.

“Actually, the uncertainty brings the thrill, and no amount of money can buy you that adrenaline rush,” a voice cuts in. Harry’s eyes snap up, and he sees May standing in front of their table, hand on her hip. She’s changed as well, into a simple, earth-toned floral dress, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are…?” El says, cocking her head in confusion. Chase starts playing onstage, a familiar, upbeat country tune that’s been stuck in Harry’s head since they played it on the first day in Perth. 

“May Westley, and I’ve just come looking for my dance partner,” she says matter-of-factly. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, and he opens his mouth to protest. “Oh come on, none of that shit, just come have fun, yeah?” she holds out her hand. He sighs, allowing himself to be dragged to the dance floor.

“But Harry doesn’t dance…” he hears Louis say has he’s pulled away. Chase starts singing, covering one of that summer’s hit country songs.

 

_I’m booking myself a one-way flight…_

“Just smile and follow my lead, right? You know the steps to this, it’s our favorite,” May whispers to him, coming right up to his ear. He nods, thinking back to dancing around fires and bars and along dirt roads. May lets his hand go and starts a simple two-step, and he falls into rhythm quickly, grinning a bit as he follows her motions, the steps coming back to him. A simple routine, but synchronized well and he knew it would look professionally to onlookers. He wills his limbs to not betray him, just this once. He risks one glance up at the table, and sees all eyes on him.

 

_But I don't want good and I don't want good enough_

_I want can't sleep, can't breathe without your love_

“HARRY!” he hears Breezy shriek, and suddenly she’s fallen into step with them enthusiastically. An honest to god grin splits across his face as he works to keep in time. He grabs both girls’ hands, spinning them in to his chest and back out again as the chorus closes.

 

_I've searched the world and I know now,  
It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind_

He attempts a solo quick step and nearly topples over, feet tangling. May catches him and he finds himself draped over her shoulders, both laughing gleefully.

“Best let the professionals take over, dear,” he whips his head around to see Gloria leading Doc by the hand over to them. Another trim, older man follows behind them, wearing an expensive looking button down with the top two buttons undone. His hairline is receding, but still impeccable styled.

“Daddy!” Breezy yells, reaching out to take his hand, pulling him to the center of the circle Harry hadn’t notice form. All club patrons have gathered, eager to take in the impromptu show being put on for them. Chase is smiling from the stage.

 

_I wanna be scared, don't wanna know why  
Wanna feel good, don't have to be right_

The two pairs fall impossibly in-sync, with quick spins and turns and even quicker feet gliding along the floor. Harry can hear May singing along next to him, and he finds himself humming along to the tune as well. The club goers clap and cheer around him. May leans in suddenly.

“Think you can give it another go, cowboy?” she asks, eyes sparkling in the flashing club lights.

“There’s no way my feet can move that fast!” he says incredulously. May laughs.

“Stop watching them then! Take in your surroundings for once. Watch the looks of surprise cross your friends’ faces as we kick ass out there, cause that, dear Harold, is quite priceless,” she says, pointing across the circle. He looks to see that the lads and Eleanor have gathered with the crowd, various looks of confusion crossing their faces.

“Okay,” he says firmly. May gives a cry of victory, grabbing his arm.

“Don’t think then! Feel the steps, they’re all in your head,” she says, pulling him into the center. The two dancing pairs shift to allow them room between them, forcing Harry and May to be front and center. He gulps as the chorus starts again.

_But I don't want good and I don't want good enough…_

His feet don’t betray them this time. He manages to keep the downward glances to a minimum, and to his own surprise finds himself keeping up with Doc and Breezy’s father, both whom remain surprisingly spry. He finds himself unable to keep a grin off his face as he spins May in time with the other pairs and pulls her towards him, grabbing one of her hands with his and placing the other on her waist. He sings along joyfully, May grinning back at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

 

_You with me baby? Let’s be crazy!_

 

“You leave Saturday from Sydney right?” he asks, forcing the logical side of his mind to shut up for the moment. May leans in close as they continue to dance, feet slowing but never stopping.

“Yeah, probably after we stop by your show,” she says, eyeing him carefully. Chase continues to play through the interlude.

“Take me with you,” Harry says, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“Seriously?” a wide smile works its way across her face. Harry looks over her shoulder, seeing Louis staring right at him, eyes concerned, hand clasped tight around El’s.

“Seriously,” he says firmly. May shouts, suddenly letting him go and grabbing Bree’s arm. 

“We’ve got him Breeze!” she says gleefully. Breezy’s face lights up and she grabs his hand, pulling both him and May up to the stage. Chase nods at them, smirking, and steps away from the mic as Bree and May hastily pull the two back up mics to the front as well, seamlessly breaking into the chorus. Harry, startled, stands between them, looking between them as they harmonize perfectly. Breezy whacks his arm, giving him a ‘c’mon get to it!’ look with her eyes. He shakes his head with a laugh, stepping forward to the center microphone.

 

_Who cares if you're all I think about,_   
_I've searched the world and I know now,_   
_It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind_   
_Yea I don't want easy, I want crazy_

He sees Niall jumping and cheering in the crowd, beer still in hand. Zayn’s whispering something to Liam urgently, and Louis stands apart from them, face still stoic. For some reason, this only fuels Harry, only vaguely aware that the two girls have stepped back for him to finish the song solo. He makes a point to stare straight at Louis, refusing to back down as he shifts uncomfortable, Eleanor looking at him nervously.

 

_Yeah, look at us baby, tonight the midnight rules are breaking_   
_There's no such thing as wild enough, maybe we just think too much_   
_Who needs to play it safe in love…_   
_Let's be crazy_

The song closes with a loud cheer from the crowd. He feels both Breezy and May hug him and he laughs. It’s like he’s living a dream. His heart is racing, but his mind his calm, buzzing only from the feedback from the crowd. He can see Gloria and Doc clapping with warm expressions, Niall fist pumping in the back while Liam and Zayn applaud politely. A delicious kind of delirium washes over him as Chase begins a faster, folky tune on his guitar and he stumbles off stage with May and Bree.

He doesn’t notice Louis turn, expression stormy, and pull Eleanor out of the club, pushing against the rush of people rushing to the stage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song's Hunter Hayes- I Want Crazy, my go-to gym jam right now
> 
> thanks for sticking with meeeee :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

There are only two things that Harry is very, very sure of right now. 

One, it is not the smartest idea to plop five young males in a new city and give them the night off with no curfew as a ‘special treat’ for working so hard.

And two, the latter has resulted in him being incredibly intoxicated.

He hears a shout from nearby and forces his head to look to his left, seeing Niall with one leg balance up on a stool, chugging while May and Zayn hoot and holler at him to finish. He’s up against a stout, black-haired man, who’s struggling to stay upright. Harry fist pumps as Niall slams his glass down in victory, cheering with the rest of the patrons who had gathered to witness the ordeal. He brings his own glass to his lips, but the whiff of alcohol he gets before taking a swig sends his stomach topsy-turvy. He grimaces and stumbles away from the bar, towards one of the private V.I.P suites they’d reserved, walking straight through to the balcony it came with. His body falls forward a bit, forcing him to catch himself on the railing. He inhales the cool air deeply, instantly feeling his body calm down. He doesn’t notice the person walk out behind him until he hears the door click shut.

“Alright?” comes a familiar voice. Harry’s head whips around. Louis is leaning against the glass door, arms crossed. A plain white scoop neck hugs his torso, allowing the top of the letters of his chest tattoo to peak out.

It makes Harry feel a little sick, and he kicks himself mentally.

“Been better,” he says finally, turning back to look over the city. He can make out the water in the distance, wondering if Bree and Chase and Sam and Gloria are still out there, checking the boat over once more before tomorrow’s departure. He sees Louis come to stand next to him out of the corner of his eye.

“Where’s Eleanor?” he asks in spite of himself. Louis picks at one of his fingernails.

“In bed, I suppose. Early flight out tomorrow, wanted to have an early one,” he speaks each word to his hand, the railing- anywhere but Harry’s face. Harry studies him intently, watching each nervous movement.

_“Why’s your heart going so fast, Lou?” he asks, pulling Louis impossibly closer. They’re naked, basking in the afterglow as some would say, Louis’ head tucked under Harry’s chin. Harry thinks they’ve been like this for hours-his own body feels totally calm and sluggish. Louis doesn’t speak up right away._

_“You make me nervous.”_

“If they had given you a choice, back on the X Factor, would you have chosen to keep going in a band?” Louis asks suddenly. Harry starts, raising an eyebrow in confusion. That wasn’t a question he expected.

“Why would you ask that?” he responds with, throat suddenly feeling thick. His voice comes out low and hoarse. Louis’ silent for a bit, dancing his fingers along the railing. Always fidgeting.

“Last night. You were…you were something else on that stage. And all week you’ve been a mix of emotions, always smiling when you’d go off with those…folks. I just. I dunno. I wondered,” Louis struggles with each word, grimacing as if they each come with a sour taste. Harry stares at him blankly until Louis turns his head, meeting Harry’s gaze for the first time. His eyes sparkle, and Harry can’t tell if it’s the lights from the club or if there are tears there. He chooses his next words carefully.

“I don’t regret the band. I couldn’t ever, I reckon. I don’t regret any of the experiences we’ve had,” he makes sure to hold Louis’ gaze with that sentence, watching as his eyes dart towards the ground immediately. “I just…I do wonder how it could be different. And this is the first time I’ve gotten to really _live_ it. It’s like my own private world, an escape from all the shit that gets thrown at us daily that’s gotten harder and harder to brush off,” he stops himself there, gritting his teeth and staring back out over the railing, supporting himself on his elbows. He swallows thickly, willing the tears to stay, willing himself to not get caught up in the conversation. A heavy bass thrums through the air, reminding him of the hundreds of people just beyond the door. He waits for Louis to respond and his heart drops when he does.

“Am I a part of that shit?” Louis asks, slowly and softly, and Harry can feel his eyes on him. He always can. He’ll never be able to shake that connection. He sighs heavily.

“Don’t do this, Louis,” he says, dropping his head into his hands. A car alarm goes off somewhere in the streets beyond them.

“I’m just trying to understand, Har-“ Harry lets out a bark of sour laughter, cutting Louis off. 

“Now? Of all times, now you’re trying to understand?” he says incredulously, glaring at the boy next to him. Louis furrows his brow.

“I just…I can feel you pulling away, I need to know if it was us-if _I_ did this to you,” he says, looking at Harry eyes soft but his jaw clenched firm. Harry shakes his head. After all this time, he can hardly believe he’s standing on a balcony, in Australia, about to leave all this shit behind him, and Louis’ here demanding answers to questions he’d never cared to ask. He can feel his heart clench with emotion.

“You don’t get to ask that, Lou,” he feels his voice shake, thick with emotion. “I have been clawing at walls, trying to break through to you, for over a year- almost two now, if your ‘anniversary’ can be trusted, and you’ve given me nothing. It’s seemed as if I was physically _hurting_ you every time I tried to break through to you. You shut me out, and you don’t get to ask these questions now,” he takes a deep, shuddery breath, forcing himself to look Louis in the eye. “You don’t get to _take_ anymore, cause there’s nothing left. I’m done. Isn’t that what you want? To move on? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all this time?”

Louis stares at him, mouth parted slightly. He bites his lower lip suddenly, pulling it repeatedly between his teeth. In any other situation, Harry would’ve kissed him.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” he says finally, and turns towards to walk back into the club, sliding to door open.

“Harry,” Louis says suddenly from behind him. He freezes for a second, but Louis says nothing more, so he slips through the glass door, leaving Louis standing alone in the night air.

  

 

“Those words _actually_ came out of his mouth?” May raises her eyebrows, taking a slow sip of coffee and pulling a face at the taste. Harry nods slowly.

They’re seated in a run-down diner, far in the back to avoid unwanted attention. It’s only about 10:30, and he doesn’t have to be at the arena until around 5, but nerves woke him up (much to his hangover’s delight) at the ass-crack of dawn with thoughts of sailing and storms and great sea creatures. He watches a run-down sedan drive by, the sun reflecting on the paint like light on the sea.

“And…?” she asks. He snaps himself out of his reverie, shaking his head.

“I told him I was done. That he didn’t have the right to speak up now, of all times, when I’m finally okay with where I am. With where I’m going.”

“You better be okay with where you’re going,” May raises her eyebrows at him. He offers her a loose grin.

“Yeah. It’ll be good. Especially since he’s all…whatever right now,” he picks at the stack of pancakes in front of him. They’re silent for a while.

“Would you go back to him?” May asks suddenly. Harry leans back in his seat, letting out a long breath. He chews his lip, thinking.

“I’m in love with him. That’s about all I’m sure of. I don’t” he pauses, rethinking his words. “Right now, I don’t think I could. I would need to know that I’m it for him, and right now I don’t think I am. And I don’t I’m strong enough to take another chance,” May nods her head at him, but her eyes remain guarded. 

“All very sensible, Harold. I guess we’ll see what time brings, right?” he nods in agreement. “Have you thought about how you’re going to leave yet tonight?”

Harry furrows his brow. He hadn’t given it much thought. He couldn’t very well waltz up to them after the show, say hey, let’s go grab a drink cause oh by the way I’m leaving for a month and running away from the tour and the fans because I think I’m on the verge of an emotional breakdown. 

“I mean I’d like to think of someway to say goodbye. To at least see them all before we head out. I owe them that much.” May grins, hailing down the waitress as she passes by.

“Of course, Harry dear. C’mon, let’s go revisit that song I wrote you, eh? Send you off with a bang, we will.”

 

 

 

Looking back, Harry is sure that that performance in Sydney was probably the best of his career. He had held nothing back, knowing it was quite possible that he would be separated from the stage, or if anything would ever be the same when he finally made his way back to it.

So if he sheds a tear when the final bow came around, he feels it to be completely justified.

He uses it as an excuse to play up the sentiment, forcing the lads out for a drink together, as a family. He’s met with no resistance, just three confused faces and one- well, Louis hasn’t quite managed to look at him yet today.

They head over to another back alley club that May had texted him the address to, piling into one van. Harry leans his head onto Zayn’s shoulder, nuzzling in to his next, which garners him a confused and concerned glance. He feels fingers thread through his hair softly, and he signs heavily. The finality of the moment is slowly sinking in, and he’ll take what he can get. The plan is to waste no time and leave straight from the bar, sneaking out after they get the boys to head back to the hotel. All of his stuff has already been removed from his hotel room, loaded onto the boat that afternoon by Chase and Sam.

Song lyrics bounce around in his head, the very ones May had taught him that day. The song she had rushed to write after they met. It was good. It was better then good. He can feel himself in it; feel every emotion that’s ever threatened to crush him over the past years. Every emotion that’s led him to this, one last stand at a dingy bar before he abruptly steps out of the spotlight.

They find a decent table in the back, ordering a round of drinks right away. Liam is the first to talk. 

“Harry, I would just like to say, you were killing it tonight. Felt good, huh?”

“I uh, yeah, you know just felt like a good night to really uh, really bring it,” Harry punctuates his answer with a small fist shake, continuing it nervously run a hand through his hair. They chatter aimlessly for a few minutes, about different landmarks they’ll be seeing in Sydney, an upcoming interview, crazy things heard on Twitter. Harry listens half-heartedly, thoughts split between looking for any sight of May and focusing on _not_ freaking out on the boys. He can feel his heart hammering, and picks a lull in conversation to speak up.

“Can I…can I just say thank you to you guys for a sec?” he says, feeling all eyes snap up to him.

“Whazzup Haz? Feeling a bit sentimental today are we?” Niall chirps cheerfully, clapping him on the back. Harry smiles weakly, folding and unfolding his hands.

“I just…you guys mean a lot to me, I just want you guys to know that. I don’t think I’ve said it enough lately. So. Thank you,” he can feel Louis’ gaze, and it’s hot and paralyzing and his praying to every god he’s ever heard of that he can just make it out of here without doing something stupid. The boys are silent around him, surrounded by the dull chatter of the bar goers and some clattering as the staff change the equipment onstage.

“Well…thank you, Harry. We love you, and you mean a lot to us, too,” Liam finally says, reaching over to grip Harry’s hand firmly. Harry offers a side grin to him, fidgeting again and suddenly feeling very vulnerable. He breathes a sigh of relief when a familiar voice comes from the stage.

“Hey guys, uh, my name’s May, and your main act will be up shortly, and they’re wonderful, but I’m gonna play quick while you wait,” she offers a small wave, pushing her hair behind her ear. Sam takes to the drums behind her, and he can spy Breezy seated at the piano off to the left.

“So I’ve just got one song for you, it’s an original, and I wrote it when I first met a now dear friend, because the emotion literally radiated off of, I’m not kidding, in all of 10 minutes I could read every heartbreak, every trial he’d every gone through. So. And I’d like to invite the always wonderful Harry Styles to the stage to help me out,” she gestures towards the audience and applause breaks out. Harry feels himself shaking a bit, but forces himself to push through the growing crowd, nodding and waving at people as they watch him make his way to the front. There’s two mic stands set up side by side, and he adjusts the height of his quickly before giving May a nod. She smiles warmly and flashes Bree a signal, and the low notes of a piano start up slowly. Harry takes one last deep, calming breath, and forces his eyes to towards the lads’ table as he begins.

_Found myself at your door,_   
_Just like all those times before,_   
_I’m not sure how I got there,_   
_All roads they lead me here._   
  
_I imagine you are home,_   
_In your room, all alone,_   
_And you open your eyes into mine,_   
_And everything feels better_

There’s that drowning feeling again, and he has to shut down his mind before he can hit the higher notes with May, terrified emotion will get the best of him. He can make out the boys’ faces; can see the confusion and the sadness etched all across them.

_Right before your eyes,_   
_I’m breaking and fast,_   
_No reasons why,_   
_Just you and me._   
  
_This is the last time I’m asking you this,_   
_Put my name on the top of your list,_   
_This is the last time I’m asking you why,_   
_You break my heart in the blink of an eye._

He forces, _forces_ himself to look straight at Louis as May begins her part, and he can see his eyes, and it may just be the lighting but, he swears he can see a tear reflecting, slowly making it down his cheek. He nearly misses his cue to begin the chorus again, he knows Louis is looking straight at him and it burns him to his very core. Louis was never able to hide his true emotion very well and Harry can see hurt, he can see anger, he can see confusion, and it brings repressed emotions within himself right back out.

_This is the last time you tell me I’ve got it wrong,_

_  
This is the last time I say it’s been you all along,_

_  
This is the last time I let you in my door,_

_  
This is the last time, I won’t hurt you anymore._

His voice betrays him, cracking a bit on the last syllable as he feels tears spring up at the corners of his eyes. But somehow, somehow he makes it through, with every ounce of strength he has left.

_This is the last time I’m asking you this…_

The applause is deafening from such a small crowd. He feels May grab his hand, pulling him down into a bow, dragging him off the stage quickly as if she knows his body isn’t working properly.

“You were perfect. Come ‘ere, give me a hug,” she grabs him firmly, and he wraps her arms around her small frame, steadying his breathing. She pulls away after a few seconds.

“Okay?” she cocks her head to the left, studying him. He nods, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, just uh, just let me run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you out back?” she nods, giving his arm a final squeeze before turning to find Bree. He gives his head a shake and heads towards the men’s room. He stands in front of the mirror, splashing water on his face to cool himself down. His whole body feels hot and shaky. He grips the sides of the sink basin firmly, steadying himself, before looking up to study himself properly. 

He hadn’t heard Louis walk in behind him.

“Is that it, then?” Louis says hesitantly. “Is that your way of saying you’re done with me?”

Harry grits his teeth, turning around to face Louis.

“I’m certainly not the first to be done,” he says accusingly. Louis hangs his head. “Why do you suddenly feel so much _shame_ about this? What’s changed?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Louis continues to study his own shoes, and Harry stares at him pointedly. Silence drags on for seconds, minutes, before Harry’s had enough.

“I’ll never be _done_ with you, Lou, but I can’t keep wasting my time waiting for you to have some miraculous revelation. It’s been over a year of silence, of awkward glancing, of me wondering why? How? How could I lose someone so quickly and suddenly? _That’s_ what I’m done with. I’m at the end of my rope, Lou, I just-“ he has to stop, pull in a deep breath. “I just need to pick myself up before I’ve hit the bottom.” 

He doesn’t wait for a response this time, moving to walk past Louis and out the door. He pauses though, placing a gentle hand on Louis’ shoulder. Louis looks up, turning his head, and Harry’s eyes meet blue, swimming with unshed tears. He moves his hand up to cup Louis’ cheek, thumbing away a tear that breaks loose.

His skin his hot and impossibly soft. Harry bites his own lip, watching Louis’ breath shudder under his touch.

And with one last deep breath, he walks out the door.

 

  

Later, as he’s storing his bags under his bunk on the boat, he’ll replay the scenario over and over in his head, as the boat creaks and sways as they pull away from the harbor. And each time, he’ll wonder what shifted in Louis’ mind, why he suddenly felt the need to cling on to Harry, to push back at the walls Harry had managed to build in Australia.

He can’t help but wonder if, somehow through whatever connection the two of them still seem to share, Louis knew he was about to lose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Last Time" good ol' T-Swift with Gary Lightbody providing the heartbreak
> 
> and so begin my horribly inaccurate descriptions of sailing!


	9. Chapter 9

Harry wakes with a crick in his neck and a rather unsettling feeling in his stomach.

It takes him a few moments to realize why he’s rocking in his bed, and he shoots up into a sitting position, promptly smacking his head on the bottom of the bunk above him. He swears under his breath, unsteadily crawling out bed to stand in the middle of the small cabin. The lump in the top bunk tells him that May is still fast asleep. He hears a rustle and sees Bree turn over in her bed on the other side of the tiny room. 

He rummages through his backpack and pulls out his phone. It’s useless in airplane mode out on the open waters, but force of habit makes him pull it out anyway, checking the time. 6:47 am. He groans internally, but knows that his body won’t go back to sleep, not when he’s still so foreign to the rocking of the boat. He stuffs his phone into the pockets of the sweatpants he slept in, shoves a sweatshirt on and stumbles out.

He shuts the door behind him softly and takes in his surroundings. The lowest level of the boat is also the only completely contained level, with one other cabin besides the one he had been sleeping in- he assumes Chase and Sam were placed in that one. There’s one larger sleeping cabin on the next level up he knows, by the controls, where Doc and Gloria sleep, since Doc needs easy access to navigations.

The lower level is dimly lit and (for the moment) shockingly clean. There’s two bathrooms, both with small showers, on either side of the hall. Someone had tacked a picture of Beyonce to designate the girls’ room, and a picture of Jay Z to designate the boys. The boat rocks suddenly, and he catches himself on the door leading to the upper deck. He steadies himself and heads up.

The stairs lead him into a makeshift sitting/dining room, with an old couch, a ratty armchair, and several folding chairs strewn about a large card table. An electric kettle and coffee maker sit side by side on a smaller table against the wall, as well as a small microwave, toaster, and one-burner portable stove. Most of the food they have is none perishable, but Gloria had apparently insisted on storing a few things on ice down in the storage room to cook early on.  Early morning light reflects on each appliance from the small circle windows lining the room. Harry reaches for the door and slips out onto the deck. 

The sea air is cool but not unpleasant, the water dark in the morning sunlight. He grips the metal railing, looking out into the boat’s wake. They’re traveling north, he knows that much, in between Australia and New Zealand, but there’s no land in sight. He watches the waves swell and break softly as the boat plows forward, letting his mind. He had thought he’d feel more anxious waking up, realizing exactly what he had done by leaving. Yet he feels calm. He can feel every physical mile of water separating him from the mess of emotions he left behind in Sydney.

For the moment, it’s wonderful. 

He hears a noise behind him and sees Chase emerges from inside, coffee in hand. He flashes a tired smile, pushing his dark hair away from his face. A hint of stubble frames his jaw.

“Body not quite ready for a good night’s sleep on the water?” Chase asks him. Harry shakes his head sheepishly. His stomach is still flip-flopping, the cool air only taking the edge off slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve been on a boat since Australia last year, much less slept on one,” he admits. Chase offers a sympathetic grin.

“And to think, you walk around with that big-ass ship on your arm every day. Shameful, Styles,” Harry flushes but chuckles a little at the comment. Chase beckons him to come towards him. “C’mon, keep me company while I drive this thing. Promised Doc I’d take over for the morning.”

Harry follows him up to the cockpit where the find Doc seated behind a steering wheel, newspaper opened on his lap. A old radio sits on the dash, a newscaster droning on softly. Various screens and radars surround him, flashing constantly, beeping every so often. Harry hasn’t a clue what any of them mean. 

“All clear?” Chase asks. Doc folds the newspaper on his lap, eyeing the two.

“Calm night. Forecast calls for the wind to pick up later tonight but we’ll be well past if we speed her up a bit. The trajectory’s loaded in, just keep an eye on the depths until we clear New Zealand,” he stands, joints cracking, and moves past them two the door. He claps Harry on the shoulder, pausing. “Teach this one a bit, will ya? Can’t be letting him freeload.”

Chase settles into Doc’s abandoned seat as he leaves, leaving Harry to settle in the folding chair that’s sitting next to it. A beep catches his attention, and he watches a dot move across one of the radar screens, perpendicular to them.

“I don’t think I’ll be much use up here, even if you explain what all this does,” Harry says after Doc shuts the door.

“No worries, mate, we’ve got it more than covered,” he sets his coffee on the dash, pulling out his phone and an adapter. He fiddles with the radio for a few moments until a folky song Harry doesn’t recognize begins to play softly. He flips a couple of black switches before grabbing a notebook from under the steering wheel.

“So you’ve, uh, been around a lot of boats then?” Harry asks, mentally slapping himself as soon as the words stupidly come out of his mouth. Chase only chuckles, and Harry watches as he copies down some numbers from the screens.

“You could say that, yes,” Chase adjusts a dial to his right. “My dad was a fisherman by trade, right out of Sydney, and he started taking me out sometimes when I was 10. Got me working on the docks by 12. My mother hated it, but it kept us afloat for most of my childhood at least.”

“Did something change?” Harry asks tentatively. Chase lets out a sigh.

“It’s the open ocean. Everything is uncertain. Storm ran them aground one summer, when I was 14, he came out of it with enough nerve damage to his arm to keep him grounded for good. Drank himself to death not too long after that. So, I dropped out of school when I was nearly 16, and have spent the past ten years of my life working full time on the docks. Still send money to ma when she needs it, especially with Sam still in school. Owe her as much for picking up so many extra nursing shifts, Dad didn’t leave us in the best financial state.”

“And you can leave all that behind? To do this?” Harry widens his eyes at him. Chase turns and winks at him.

“Perks of being the owner,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s like what my boy Drake says, ‘started from the bottom now my whole team fucking here.’” 

They both laugh wholeheartedly at the quip. Harry has to wipe a tear from his eye, watching as Chase turns to face him fully, leaning back in his chair. He’s somber for a moment.

“Do you resent him?” Harry dares to question. Chase studies him for a moment, quiet. Harry continues. “I mean, he just up and left you and Sam and your mom, essentially. Gave up on it all.”

“If you’re trying to compare yourself to my father, you’re wrong,” Chase states firmly, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. Harry bites his lip. “Life turned shit for him, and he gave up. He got so caught up in his own mind that it didn’t matter that his wife still loved him, that he had two boys who thought the sun shone out his ass, that he still had family and friends who would be there in a _heartbeat_ with whatever he needed. It didn’t matter because he couldn’t see it. I learned the hard way that he wasn’t perfect, that none of us are, that some still succumb to the demons no matter how hard we fight for them. And there’s nothing we can but watch as they fall apart bit by bit."

Harry swallows thickly, choking back tears he hadn’t realized were there.

“You’re still fighting,” Chase continues, looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. “You’re here because you knew that to fight your demons, you needed a clean slate. You needed time and space, the only two things you couldn’t possibly get by staying." 

“I ran from an ex-lover and a _boy band_ I’d hardly call those proper demons,” Harry scoffs. 

“Since when do we have to classify proper demons? It’s not a fucking competition, no matter what people say. You hurt. I hurt. My father hurt. No one of us hurt for the same reason and that shouldn’t dictate who’s allowed to feel that pain. It runs so much deeper than that."

“I would say you’re running from dream that’s been broken. Watching you, you can see just…just a sense of brokenness in your eyes. And once you see it, it’s impossible not too. I know some of the details, and I’m not going to ask for more. It shouldn’t matter. What matters is that you got out. You didn’t give up, because I don’t think you’re leaving permanently. You just need to fix yourself up a bit. And believe me when I say we get it. We’re rebuilding right alongside you. Losing Austin shook us badly. He was sick, we knew he wouldn’t stick around for the long run, but they don’t tell you how to deal with that. There’s no manual that comes with watching your friend wither away year after year, until terminal becomes part of their personality. And now we rebuild. And it sucks and it hurts and we're angry, but we're trying. We need you to try with us. That's why you're here, on this bought with a rag tag crew of strangers. _Because you're trying._ Not everyone breaks the same, and not everyone can be fixed the same. Don't feel that you're wrong by taking a few steps back.”

Harry’s eyes are openly swimming with tears now. He lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I just- I don’t even know where to start. My head’s a mess and it’s _his_ fault and no matter how hard I try I can’t hate him for it."  
 

“You've already started. You left. We’ll get you sorted out, kid. That’s what we do.”

“I just need to be able to think clearly. I need it all to slow down,” Harry whispers. Chase reaches out and squeezes his leg warmly, offering a small smile. 

“Doc’ll kill me if we drop below 20 knots,” he says, eyes twinkling. Harry lets out a watery chuckle, and suddenly they’re laughing again. Harry reaches up to wipe at his eyes as Chase pats his leg again, turning back to the controls. 

“You’ll be alright, Styles. You’ve got a good head on you. We’ve just gotta get screwed back on properly.”

_Louis’ POV_

 

Louis’ awakes to muted yelling outside of his hotel room door. He groans, fumbling in the general direction of the nightstand for his phone. 8:05. Also known as, much too early for this much commotion situated around his room. Especially since it’s moving closer.

He’s just sat up to rub his eyes when the pounding starts, and Liam’s hollering at him to open up.

“Just a sec, you wanker!” He hollers back indignantly, pushing himself out of bed. He manages to trip on three shoes and a suitcase on his way to gracefully open the door, revealing a frazzled Liam on the other side. 

“If you’re looking for Louis, eternal ray of sunshine, you may want to try again in another couple of hours,” he says sarcastically. Liam nervously rubs at the top of his head. 

“Is Harry here?” he questions tentatively. Louis narrows his eyes.

“What kind of question is that?”

“ _Is he bloody here, Lou?”_

“No, he’s not bloody here, he’s sharing with Zayn isn’t he! When’s the last time the two of us roomed together?” Louis blinks heavily a couple of times, trying to will his eyes to stay open. Liam lets out a frustrated groan. “What the hell is wrong, Li?”

“We don’t think he came home last night,” Liam exhales, leaning against the doorframe. He drops his head into the crook of his elbow.

“He probably staying over with that girl or something, he’s been dogging them all week,” Louis offers, shrugging his shoulders. Liam lifts his head to look at him.

“He told Niall he was heading back early, that security was giving him a ride to the hotel, Lou,” Liam’s eyes look uncertain, a strange wild, panicky look reflecting in them. Louis furrows his brow.

“So he lied, so we wouldn’t think he was shagging-“

“Liam! Fuck, Liam there’s something else,” Zayn comes jogging towards them, still in his pajamas. “Fuck, I didn’t even notice, I was so caught up on _him_ missing I was so stupid-“ 

“ _What,_ Zayn?” Liam and Louis say at the same time.

“His stuff. All his bags. Everything. It’s gone.”

 

 

 

“How does one of the world’s biggest pop stars just up and _disappear?!_ How does this happen, boys?” Paul’s yelling, and has been yelling for the past hour, whether it be into the phone or at the four boys seated sheepishly in front of him in one of the hotel’s private conference rooms. Louis can’t distinguish who is talking to now, as he’s spent most of the hour studying the table in front of him, mind numb.

“He said he was going with security, he’s never lied about that we had no reason too-“ Liam began before Paul cut him off. 

“It didn’t register that the two security guards we sent you off with were _both still sitting behind you?_ ” Paul hisses. Louis looks up, and watches as their tour manager sits down across from them putting his face into his hands. They’re all silent, until Niall chimes in.

“He may have tried to tip me off,” he says slowly. All heads whip around to stare at him.

“What?” Paul says darkly, glaring at the Irish boy. Niall shrugged and pulled out his phone.

“At like 2:30 this morning he texted me and said ‘hey tell everyone freaking out in the morning not to freak out for me I’m ok’ and I was going to bed at that point so I just said ‘haha what’d you do hazza come tell me in the morning’ but he never responded. So uh…stop freaking out?” Niall offers a nervous smile. Zayn groans and drops his head onto the table with a dull thud. Paul stands up, slams his chair into the table and storms out, muttering. The boys are silent for a few moments. Louis can feel his heart hammering in his chest, the air suddenly thick in the room. 

“Is this my fault?” he manages to whisper. Zayn’s head shoots up.

“Yeah, it’s fucking your fault. You’ve been a right tit to him you know? Do you have any idea how fucked up in the head he is because of you?” Zayn yells, getting out of his chair. Louis hangs his head.

“Zayn, don’t, that isn’t the problem now-“

“Of course it’s the problem now! It’s always been the fucking problem and he’s just been too thick to see it and now Harry’s ran off to god knows where and what the hell are we supposed to tell people? Oh sorry, the tour’s postponed because our band mate fucked off because he was too fucked up in the head to keep touring? _What the hell are we supposed to do?”_ Zayn looks at them all expectantly. Louis rubs at his eye, staying quiet. He can feel Niall fidget nervously beside him. Suddenly the beige wall behind Zayn has become distressingly interesting to Liam. Zayn slams his fist on the table and turns to storm out.

“Zayn where are you going?” Liam asks. Louis notes how tired he suddenly sounds.

“To search our room. To search the tour bus. To look for anything that might tell us where the fuck he went and why he thought it was a good to idea to fuck off suddenly,” with a slam of the door, he’s gone. Louis picks at his nails nervously.

“Louis, he’s been run down by the tour more than all of us, you know this can’t be your fault,” Liam says tentatively, and Louis feels his hand settle on his shoulder. He shakes his head quickly. 

“I pretty damn sure it is,” he replies solemnly.

 

 

_**Shocker In Oz! One Direction Postpones All Upcoming Shows!** _

__

_It seems like there’s some trouble down under! **One Direction** reps announced hours before the boys were supposed to take the stage Sunday for their second Sydney show that that show and all future shows have been called off for the time being. The rep declined to comment at this time on the reasons for the postponement._

_Sources claim to have seen an angry **Zayn Malik** storm out of the hotel the boys were staying with around mid morning. **Liam Payne** and **Niall Horan** were photographed heading into the hotel around 2:00 pm local time, followed by a shockingly glum looking **Louis Tomlinson.** Could we be watching this boy band’s downfall? And where is **Harry Styles** in all this mess? Despite there being dozens of fans camped out near the hotel, we’ve got no word on the whereabouts of the youngest heartthrob. _

_Get your Sherlockian instincts ready, readers! Something smells fishy to us, and we promise you we will get to the bottom of this! We’re on SCANDAL alert!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lalalalalalaaaaa


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have i mentioned that you guys are the best? cause you're the best.

They arrive in Fiji in the dark, at roughly 9 pm according to the port authorities, in the midst of calm seas and twinkling shore lights.

“Looks a lot like Sydney did,” Breezy grumbles, pulling on her backpack. 

“That’s because it’s night, dear. Amazing, innit?” Gloria replies, disembarking the boat. Doc and Chase are still on, walking with the authorities to have the boat cleared.

“Can we just do this? Like, just dock wherever with this little fuss?” Harry asks. Breezy shrugs.

“It’s Doc, we tend not to question things when it comes to him,” May replies from where she’s laying on the ground, bag pillowed under her head. She has one arm thrown over her face, covering her eyes. 

“We think he’s a world-class mafia boss,” Sam dramatically whispers, scampering down the walkway. Gloria smacks the back of his head as he passes her. 

“Don’t you go spreading nonsense like that, we’ll leave you to the mercy of his cronies,” she says, pointing a finger at him. 

“We could use him traveling with the band, it takes us ages to get through customs,” Harry groans, thinking of disaster after disaster of trying to simultaneously dodge fans and clear airport security. He shudders at the thought. Breezy yawns dramatically beside him.

“I can’t believe it only took us 6 days to get here,” she says, pulling her blonder hair back into a ponytail. Harry stares at her.

“Only? Those were the longest 6 days of my life!” he moans. He had gotten his sea legs eventually, but not after long days spent hunched over the railing, his complexion pale and skin clammy.

“Aw, Styles and here we thought you were a world class traveler!” May quips from the ground. Harry nudges at her roughly with his foot, earning him a swat to the calf.

“We travel _normally_. By planes and trains and automobiles. They don’t chuck us on a boat and say have at it,” he says. He rubs at his eyes, which have been getting heavier by the second. Thank god they’re staying on island the next two nights, on firm, immovable ground.

“No adventure with those, is there son? Come on, come on you lot get on up, let’s look a bit lively now!” Doc comes down from the boat, Chase and a dock official in tow. The official salutes them as he passes by.

“Doc, it’s _late_ ,” May grumbles, struggling to stand. She ends up swaying harshly, the weight of her backpack pulling her backwards. Harry catches her quickly, stabilizing her.

“And I’ve been driving you ungrateful lot to this damn island, so the least you can do is get to the house as swiftly as possible so I can get a bit of peace and quiet!” Doc grabs two bags off the dock and marches off towards the shore.

“The house?” Harry asks.

“A favor for an acquaintance goes a long way in this world, young man! Car’s waiting!” Doc calls over his shoulder.

“Told you, mafia,” Sam says under his breath as he passes Harry. Gloria swats at his head again but he ducks this time, jogging off. He looks over at May, wide eyed. She shrugs, grabbing the rest of her bags to follow. Harry shakes his head, picking up his two bags. 

“Come on the boat with us, they said. It’ll be a well-deserved break, they said,” he mutters under his breath. He hears a giggle from next to him and sees Bree walking beside him, a broad smile on her face.

“The point was to save your mind, Harry, not lose it completely,” she says, grinning.

“Funny, you are,” he replies dryly. “Driving me up the wall with your mysteries and stories and singing. Who the hell are you people?” 

Bree sighs heavily, making a dramatic gesture towards the sky.

“We’re just all hopeless dreamers, Harold,” she says. And even through she’s grinning madly, Harry can see in her eyes, shining in the moonlight, every ounce of truth in that statement.

  

 

 

Harry awakes the next morning to a loud shriek and a sudden impact to his chest.

“Get up get up _get up!”_ May and Breezy yell simultaneously, trying to both rip the sheets off of him and pummel him at the same time. Harry swats at them, limbs heavy with sleep. 

“Get _off_ you mad women!” he groans reaching out to stop the pillow May’s grabbed from hitting him again. They tussle for a bit, stopping only after Bree falls off the bed with a dull _thud_. Harry chuckles sleepily while May roars with laughter.

“I’ve gone and broken my bum,” she moans pathetically from the floor.

“And your dignity,” Harry says, head falling back down on his pillow. May snorts from where she’s perched by his knees. 

“Don’t they teach you to always fall with grace in your debutante classes?” May asks.

“You think far to highly of me, I failed long before that.”

“Rightfully so, look at the state you’re in! Disgraceful,” May tuts. The pillow Breezy had brought to the ground with her comes flying up, sailing over the bed to the other side. Harry clears his throat.

“Can I help you ladies or were you just looking to take advantage of my vulnerability?” he asks.

“Right! We’re going to the beach, so up up up!” Breezy shoots up from the floor, and Harry now notices she’s wearing a beach cover up, bathing suit straps sticking out. He turns his head to see May dressed similarly. He throws an arm over his face, sighing heavily. 

“I’m a pasty English boy, I’ll _burn_ ,” he declares dramatically. May grabs his arm, pulling.

“Nonsense, we’ll lather you up. This is a proper vacation now. C’mon, let’s get lost in the house and yell for helps until everyone else wakes up!” She jumps off the bed, grabbing Bree and dragging her out the door.

“Why am I the only one to get the special wake up?” He complains.

“You’re new, the others would’ve quite literally murdered us, yada yada, god you’re slow in the mornings! Kitchen, 15 minutes!” May calls back to him, disappearing down the hallway.

Harry pushes himself into a sitting position, grabbing his phone from the nightstand next to the bed. It’s still useless in terms of contacting anyone ( _there must be a way,_ he thinks, but part of himself keeps him from asking), but the time reads 9:20 am. He lets it fall to the bed beside him, before rubbing his eyes and taking in the room he’d spent the night in. They’d pulled up to the impressive house at around 10:30 the night before and immediately split into different rooms, worn out from travelling and not bothering to explore the house apparently lent to them on favor.

The bedroom he is in is modern, with dark wood paneling covering the walls and the carpet, curtains and bed sheets white. There are two wide windows to his left covered by curtains, but bright sunlight peeks through, giving the room a warm morning glow. He climbs out of bed and walks over, pushing the curtains aside and gasping immediately at the view.

The window faces the back of the house, which apparently sits right on its own portion of beach. The ocean sparkles in the morning sunlight, dancing between shades of green and blue. Small waves crash on the white sand, breaking much further out, where the land curves in to form a protective cove. He can faintly make out the white crests of much larger waves crashing on the barrier rocks, before the slowly continue to roll into their beach.

“FIVE MINUTES!” comes Bree’s shrill yell, echoing throughout the house. Harry groans, turning to rummage for his swim trunks. 

 

 

 

It turns out that the slow rolling waves that hit their beach, while smaller than the massive ones breaking out by the rocks, still pack quite the punch when they break.

Hence Harry emerging, coughing and blinking salt water out of his eyes, after another failed body-boarding attempt.

“Incoming!” May cries, and moments later Harry feels the impact, legs flying out from underneath him as May plows him down on her board. He picks himself up, spluttering once more. He looks up to the sand to see Breezy roaring with laughter from where she’s laying out, soaking up the sun.

“You look like one of those guys on that American show, Wipeout!” Bree wheezes out, chest heaving. A wicked idea forms in Harry’s mind. He puts on his meanest face and stalks up the beach, dropping his board. Bree’s eyes widen.

“Oh no, back away from me- NO you BRUTE!” she screeches as he picks her up easily, throwing her over his shoulder with a soft grunt, ignoring her protests. “CHASE you useless bastard shouldn’t you be defending my honor?” Harry walks her to the water, wading in past his knees.

Chase turns from where he’d been playing football with Sam, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“Not much to defend, he’s got you beat babe,” he says with a wink. Bree groans in frustration, which turns to a shriek as Harry deposits her into the surf. Harry chuckles at her indignation, turning to walk away. Something grabs at his ankle and he staggers, eventually falling into the ocean himself, inhaling a great deal of salt water. He pushes himself to a standing position coughing violently. He sees Bree racing up the beach, turning back to pull a face at him from the sand. 

“Oh it’s on,” he says, essentially to himself, before charging after her. She’s quick, but he eventually gets a hand on her and their legs tangle together, knocking them off balance. They fall together in a heap, and Harry feels the air momentarily leave his lungs.

“Truth, truth!” Breezy wheezes. “Oh, fuck me, I haven't run in ages.”

Harry coughs and nods in agreement, throwing a bit of sand at her for good measure. She swats at his hand, shaking out her hair.

“You’re a piece of work when you aren’t being an emo little shit, I’m not sure I like it,” she admits. Harry furrows his brow and shoots her a pointed look.

“Your etiquette astounds me,” he replies dryly. She shrugs, propping herself up on her elbows to look out at the water.

“Failed debutante, it’s expected.” Harry rolls onto his side, looking at her.

“How does one become a failed debutante?” he asks. She looks over at him, suppressing a laugh.

“Do you want the highlight reel or the feature film?” she says, a smug smirk on her face, eyes twinkling.

“I’ve got nowhere to be if you don’t,” he replies. She heaves a long, dramatic sigh. Harry waits, expectantly, but she keeps going until he flicks more sand at her. 

“Alright, alright then,” she grumbles. “Well, my parents have money. And lots of it. Both came from very prestigious backgrounds, and my mother put a lot of stock in tradition. You know, like proper tradition, raising a girl to be a proper lady and all of that. My dad couldn’t care less, but he let my mum have her way while he busied himself with my brothers. Which meant long hours spent learning the proper placement of every godforsaken utensil you could run into, learning to only speak in turn, sit like a lady, all that jazz. Must have wasted half my childhood in those lessons with the other proper young ladies, and the other half being reprimanded for fucking it up.”

Harry snickers, picturing a young Bree wrecking havoc at some formal tea party by spilling tea or knocking furniture over. She notices and points a finger at him sternly.

“Stop that, whatever you’re picturing probably happened. I am most proud of 12-year old me accidentally setting fire to my great-aunt’s centerpiece during tea. But, any way, we can relive those glory days later. By 15 I had realized that I was not cut out for the life my mother was trying to create for me, mainly because at this point she had brought in all the potential suitors, meaning all of her wealthy friends dorky sons.”

“Did you go out with them?” Harry asks. Bree snorts, laughing to herself.

“Course I did. And I made it my mission to scandalize every single one of them. And those that could survive the first date, well, we’d see each other for a bit, but eventually they would all turn out to be the same. Dull, uninterested and raging with repressed hormones. I would use that to my advantage, of course, because nothing scandalizes the ladies at tea quite like bringing up their sons’ kinky sex fantasies,” she waggles her eyebrows at this, and Harry laughs.

“So what then? I’m assuming the actual debutante ball thing is coming up?” she nods at him, looking sarcastically impressed. 

“Very good, Harold, you’re following along nicely. I was set to participate a few months before my 18th birthday, alongside four other wonderfully well-trained girls. I had a beautiful dress all picked out by my mother, and all I needed was a well-groomed, respectable man to escort me. Of course by this time, I had scared away most of my mother's choice candidates. And then I met Chase,” a fond expression crosses her face, and she glances over a where the man in question is standing with his brother. “My father purchased and renovated the docks in Sydney that he worked at, and I met him on vacation when we were going to take one of our boats out. Ugh, Harold I swear, it was right out of a bad romance film. The poor, repressed, delicate-“ Harry snorts at that, dodging the answering slap from Bree  “ _stop_ it now, for Christ’s sake let me share my fantasy. Anyway. Essentially, all throughout that holiday I snuck out to see him. He was three years older, mysterious and dirt poor, with no ties at all to the people I had grown up with. He was perfect,” she sighs, a dreamy look crossing her face, losing her trains of thought.

“Love at first sight?” Harry offers.

“Hardly. You’ve seen how we both are, we rarely saw eye to eye. Those first months were filled with so much bickering and arguing and just raw passion. I loved it. I _craved_ it. For the first time I had met someone who could match me, who could hold my attention longer than some dry prep school boy. But of course, my mother would have been scandalized.”

“So, of course, you invited him to escort you,” Harry says.

“Ugh Harold you continue to impress me. Of course I did. He initially turned me down, saying he didn’t own a suit proper enough, but I insisted. I told him to just come straight to the event, in his work clothes for all I cared. And I didn’t tell my mother, as she had already set up a date for me. Some poor boy named Richard, bless his heart he really was a doll, just wrong place wrong time. Any way. Chase showed up to the event, and I ran off from Richard right when we were supposed to make our grand entrance, and brought Chase out with me instead. Poor guy was wearing a ratty t-shirt and dirty overalls from working all day. It was all delightfully scandalous, and me and mum had a right row. But who swept in to save the day? My _father_ of all people. He walks right up to Chase, claps him on the back, and said ‘if anyone can tame my Breezy here, it’s this young man standing in front of you all.’ That shut my mother up real fast, and the rest, well, it's not nearly as interesting.”

Harry cocks his head at her, smiling. It was a beautiful story, and had Breezy written all over it.

“Is it happily ever after?” he asks after a moment. Bree laughs at him.

“Is there really such a thing? We love each other, if that’s what you want to hear, but we have our rough patches. I’ll fight with him, my mother and I still have wicked spats, and Sunday tea is still a disaster whenever I’m invited. But I’ve fought to be where I’m at, tooth and nail, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Harry ponders that for a moment, glancing between where Chase is off to the side and where Breezy is stretched out beside him, watching Chase fondly. Sadly, he can pinpoint that look, as he studies it on her face. Louis would look at him like that, he thinks, all throughout the X Factor, back when they lived out of each other’s pockets. Back when it was easy to smile and laugh, unafraid of what the day would bring. 

Breezy suddenly turns to look at him. She studies him for a moment, before speaking.

“Can I be honest with you, Harry?” he nods, brow crinkling in confusion. She hesitates, seemingly thinking over her word choice, before continuing. “I think you should fight for him when we get back.”

Harry’s eyes widen- that hadn’t been the words he expected at all.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says slowly. Bree rolls her eyes at him.

“Of course you do. I think that, from what I’ve gathered, Louis is your Chase. I don’t know if you’ll ever find someone else who excites you like he does. And let me tell you, that’s something special to find. Start over when we get back. Think of all the horribly, awful things you felt as we were leaving, and _throw them all away_. Learn from them. Figure out where you guys went wrong, and fix it,” Harry opens his mouth to protest, but she holds a finger up to silence him. “I know, I know, it’s not that simple, yada yada yada, but maybe it is. I don’t think you guys ever really thought about what went wrong. Why Eleanor? Think about it from his prospective, and go from there. Feel free to protest if I’m off the mark, but it looks like he’s your wonderfully wild and imperfect happily ever after, and I don’t think you should give that up without a fight.”

Harry remains quiet, studying the sand. Moments flicker through his mind- giggling in one bunk in the dead of night with three others dead to the world lying nearby, soft touches on stage when nerves become the most prominent enemy, lazy mornings fighting over who’d put on the kettle. As tainted as their relationship has become, those memories come through bright and clear, and he smiles to himself. He hears Breezy stand up, and her hand comes to rest on his shoulder. 

“Speaking of happily ever afters, I’m going to go have a strong word about what it means to defend a woman’s honor with mine after you had your Hulk Hogan moment or whatever. Don’t stay here too long, lover boy, your pasty English skin is frying,” she pats his shoulder softly and scampers off. Harry watches her approach Chase with her hand on her hip. He smiles fondly, lying back to close his eyes. The sun is warm, the sound of the waves hypnotic. For the first time in a long while, he relaxes, and allows warm thoughts of Louis and happy days with the band flood through his thoughts. Days when he had felt on top of the world.

Maybe he still is, he finds himself thinking, and he’s only waiting for the fog to clear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summer break is great for writing, so thank you all for indulging me and reading this!

Louis has never been one to shy away from attention.

No, it is in his nature to seek it out, to embrace it fully- a valuable attribute when one must tolerate hundreds of fan encounters on a daily basis.

And yet, today, he finds himself ducking through back alleys in London, hood pulled up over his beanie-clad head, and a thick pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, despite the dark and dreary fall weather.

Management had been very clear about the consequences of them being seen out and about alone. The whole Harry mess was still kept hush hush, and it was feared that if bombarded by fans, one of the boys would crack, and the truth would come out.

The truth being, Louis thinks dryly, that no one has a fucking clue where Harry ran off. 

He turns his head towards a building as a man and woman pass him, bundled up to fight the cool October winds. He can overhear their conversation, discussing an upcoming dinner date with someone named Lisa. He cherishes it, cherishes the quiet and peace that comes with walking the streets unknown. He ducks down the next side street, and pauses in front of a familiar gate. 

It’s Harry’s house. Well, Harry’s _other_ house. He still stays with Louis, in their old flat, most days, using this house only as an escape if he needs to hide himself away from the world. Louis’ kicked himself everyday for not taking closer note on what would make Harry shy away from the world. And for each of the past six days, since they’ve returned from Australia to London, he’s come to this house, hoping to see a figure move in the window, a light flicker, _anything_ to indicate that Harry had decided to come home.

He’s been missing for nine days, and seemingly without a trace.

Louis stands there for several minutes, studying the house through the gate. The stark whiteness of it fits in perfectly with the mixture of white and grey clouds in the sky. It’s completely dark, curtains drawn to cover every window. The same as it has been every single other day he’s come. He steps forward to the gate tentatively, and punches in a five-letter code into the keypad. His own name, to be exact ( _god, how could he have been so oblivious?)_. The small screen indicates for him to press 1 to buzz the house. He presses 1 and waits with bated breath.

Five seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

Thirty seconds. 

The screen taunts him, telling him to press 1 to buzz again. He presses the button roughly, stepping back and glaring at the front door through the gate.

A minute passes.

And another.

Louis groans in frustration, slamming a fist against the gate for good measure. He drops his head to rest against the cool metal, still slippery with morning dew. Nothing. He knows that someone checks the house everyday, actually has the code to get in and sweep through the rooms. He isn’t quite sure why he bothers to come at all, knowing he can’t very well just march into the house. But each morning, his feet carry him from his own flat- their own flat- down the darkest of alleys and back roads to stand at this _fucking_ gate for ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

A siren goes off in the distance, startling him from his reverie. It’s only about half past eight in the morning, the London bustle making its way into full swing. He lifts his head with a sigh and tucks his hands into his pockets, heading for his next destination.

 

 

 

 

Zayn opens on the second knock, a hard expression on his face. Louis bites his lip, eyes darting between Zayn and the floor. He can smell a mix of cigarettes and weed drifting out of the flat.

“Well come on, then, don’t let anyone see you out there,” Zayn says, turning to walk back inside. He sounds exhausted. They all are, Louis supposes, as he follows.

As he steps into the living room he can hear Zayn open his fridge.

“Do you wanna beer?” Zayn calls. Louis says yes, please, and Zayn returns, two bottles in hand. He hands one to Louis before flopping down on the couch. Louis hesitates for a moment, before sitting in an armchair across from him. Zayn’s living room is sparsely furnished, the walls bare.

Pointless, Louis remembers him saying once, to make a place into a home when you’ll never be around to use it as one.

The silence drags on.

“Say something, Lou, please. Before I kick you out,” Zayn says finally. Louis stares at his bottle, watching a droplet of condensation race down the side.

“I haven’t gone this long without seeing him or at least talking to him since we met, I reckon,” he sighs finally. His mind is screaming at him, saying _give it up, coward, you know what you want to ask, say it._ He purses his lips, keeping his mouth shut.

“I would argue that,” Zayn says solemnly. “I don’t think you’ve seen or talked to him since- well, when would you say you and El’s anniversary is?” 

Louis flinches at the harsh tone of his voice, but can bring himself to answer. He takes a swig of beer, eyes flitting up to see Zayn studying him. 

“How could you do it?” Zayn asks finally. “How could you break him so quickly and swiftly, and just be _okay_ with it?” 

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Louis mutters. Zayn scoffs, putting his bottle down on the table sharply. Louis flinches again at the noise, realizing how on edge he is.

“The right thing. God, you are such a cliché you know? You do realize this isn’t some bad rom com, that you and I and Harry are _actual_ people with _actual_ feelings? Or were you to blind to see him falling apart before our eyes too?” Zayn gestures wildly with his hands, voice rising. Louis bites his lip again, words stuck in his throat. He can’t breathe. His silence only seems to infuriate Zayn who stands up from the couch to pace across the room.

“God even now you’re pathetic, you can’t even defend yourself-“

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” Louis manages to croak out, wincing at this own voice. Zayn whips around to look at him. His voice is ice cold when he speaks.

“I want you to look me in the eye. And I want you to tell me that you broke his heart because of El, and not because you were so scared of management and of coming out that you cast him aside like a cheap whore, Lou. Because that’s what it felt like to him, and that’s what it looks like to me.”

Zayn holds his gaze, eyes challenging him. Louis forces himself to look back, and he can feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. A hundred different words float around in his mind- some lies, some truths, but mostly a jumbled, awful mess that just seems to fit perfectly with the state he’s in right now. Nothing comes out of his mouth, and eventually he just shakes his head at Zayn, eyes finally drifting to the ground. He hears an audible sigh, and the sound of Zayn walking back towards him and settling back down on the couch. Outside, a car horn honks, breaking through the uneasy air.

“Was it really that bad?” Zayn asks. Louis looks up, a hundred questions in his eyes. “When they found out about you two. Was it really so bad that this mess was necessary?”

“It was awful,” Louis says, and he can hear the thickness in his voice. He clears his throat. “They were talking about ending the band, about making us have this huge press conference, about the backlash with the fans, and I- I’d never even _thought_ about a boy before him, much less been in a relationship with one. He was so carefree about it, never pressuring me to label it or too tell anyone and…” 

Louis trails off, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat. It all sounds so silly now, so trivial that these were the things that held him back all those months ago.

“I convinced myself that, since we never labeled anything, that there was nothing to throw away. God, saying it now, I was so _stupid_ I thought if I just made a move with Eleanor like they wanted me to anyway that they’d forget about it all, but they just kept _obsessing_ over it. I just…I’m an idiot, Zayn. I am an idiot, I was an idiot, and I don’t know if I can fix this or that I even deserve to be able to fix this.”

Louis swipes at his eye, not surprised to find it wet. He knows he blew it. He’s known since the minute he invited Eleanor back to the flat that day, determined to surround him in a reality that just wasn’t right. He’s known it since he saw the look on Harry’s face when he’d walked in on them, and Louis forced himself to stop meeting his eyes, because if he couldn’t see the sadness and anger in them then it wouldn’t hurt to keep up the façade.

Zayn’s watching him, expression softened and saddened. He chuckles suddenly, and Louis furrows his brow in confusion.

“What the hell has happened to us, Lou?” Zayn spits out dryly, shaking his head. Louis smiles weakly, shaking his head as well. “If you had told me 3 years ago, that we’d be this much of a mess, I would’ve walked right out of that building when Simon called me out for backing out of dancing.”

Louis lets out a bark of laughter at the memory. They had all been stupid, naïve idiots back then, each in their own way. Zayn too moody and stubborn, Liam too anal and competitive, Harry too trusting and caring and _young,_ Niall- well, Niall really just had been an idiot, cracking them all up with his dry humor and dirty jokes, constantly in awe of the crowds and the bands and just everything.

And, of course, he had his own problems and demons. Too weak of a voice, desperate to hang onto whatever sliver of his dream they could afford to give him. Too willing to sacrifice for it.

“Get out of your head, Lou,” Zayn’s voice snaps him back to reality. “Stop hiding up in there. Talk to me, because trust me, you’re not the only one struggling right now, and I really just need you to stick with me.” 

Louis studies Zayn closely for the first time since he’d gotten here. He clearly hasn’t shaved in a few days, and the bags under his eyes are much, much darker than they should be on someone who, in theory, has been on a week and a half hiatus. His closes are rumpled, and a small stain near the top of his plain t-shirt indicates that this isn’t the first time he’s worn these clothes recently.

“God, Zayn, have you showered since we’ve been back? It’s not even a proper tragedy and you’ve gone and given up on your devilish good looks,” Louis says, smiling. Zayn laughs, and once he starts, neither of them can stop. Louis laughs until a sharp pain cuts through his side, and he’s taking great, heaving breaths, wiping tears from his eyes.

“If only they could see us now,” Zayn chokes out between gasping breaths. “‘International Pop Stars, or Hobos on the Tube?’ That’s what the Sugarscape headlines would read, and honestly that’d be a pretty hard game to play.”

Louis lets himself calm down, talking a few slow sips of beer.

“Do you think he’s planning on coming back?” he finds himself asking suddenly. 

“He can’t run forever,” Zayn says, almost sadly. “The world’s only so big, and there are only so many hidden corners he can hide. I think he just needed to run away for a bit, clear his head. You can’t breathe much when we’re on tour, you know?”

Louis nods, mind racing. He couldn’t hide forever- it was impossible. It was more than likely that he wasn’t alone, that somehow those new friends he had made had helped him get out. They had to have family and friends too, people they needed to come back to. He would come back. 

“Lou,” Zayn calls suddenly. Louis meets his gaze, so much warmer than it had been mere minutes ago. “You know this is your second chance right? You may not deserve it, but he’s giving you it anyway.” 

“What are you talking about?” Louis asks. He can feel his pulse speed up, and he fists his hands together. 

“This is your do-over. When he comes back, it’s going to be messy. He’s going to need someone to rely on. This is your chance to get your shit together and be that person.”

Louis stares, mouth agape. He thinks back to Harry’s last words to him, ringing clearly throughout his head.

_“I can’t keep wasting my time waiting for you to have some miraculous revelation.”_

_“I just need to pick myself up before I’ve hit the bottom.”_

He let’s out a sharp breath as it all hits him, the most important thing Harry had said to him and the one thing he hadn’t dwelled on.

_“I’ll never be done with you, Lou.”_

 

 

 

 

He only stays at Zayn’s for a bit longer, long enough for them to finish their beers and for Zayn to pull him into a tight hug, saying _don’t do anything stupid_ alongside _but don’t fuck this up._ He leaves with a clearer head and a heavier heart as he walks the backstreets once more, racing into his ( _their_ , he reminds himself) flat and up to his bedroom. He plugs his iPod into the speakers, putting it on shuffle, before going over and pulling his closet doors open. He finds the box he’s looking for quickly; it’s the only large box in there and right off to the side, always within reach. He’s sentimental like that- this box is his anchor, holding every valuable memory he could gather from the recent years of his life. He opens it, heart racing as he pulls out each album and picture frame one by one.

There’s him and Harry backstage, on the X Factor, with their god-awful haircuts and stupidly happy grins, preparing for their first performance. He has a whole photo album dedicated to the band on the show, but he sets that aside for now. The next frame holds another from the X Factor tour, of him and Harry and Jay and Anne all gathered outside the venue, pointing excitedly to the signs advertising that nights show. Jay and Anne are wearing matching t-shirts from the merch shop, both looking more than a little teary-eyed. Louis smiles, remembering all the times he and Harry would come offstage to their mothers clutching each other, blowing their noses wildly from a shared box of tissues.

The next photo is a group shot, rewinding to the bungalow, a horribly positioned timer photo of the 5 of them jumping into the pool. Liam’s head is cut off and Niall’s already almost completely submerged. Zayn has the wickedest expression on his face, grinning so broadly it looks like his face’s split in two, and then there’s Harry, holding on tight to Louis’ hand, barely an inch of the pool deck. Five idiotic band members, captured in their prime. 

He grimaces a little at the next photo, as he begins to get to the more recent photos, the reason he pulled out this box to begin with. He has to see where the dynamic shifted, if he managed to capture the pain in Harry’s eyes he’d used ever ounce of willpower not to acknowledge.

The music shifts to a slower, familiar piano ballad. He listens, trying to place it, before remembering Harry playing this song obsessively before the tour had begun at the beginning of the year. He had thought nothing of it at the time, just another of Harry’s music phases, but understands a bit more as he listens to the lyrics for the first time.

_Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_  
 _Are you aware the shape I'm in?_

He turns his attention back to the photo in his hands. It’s subtle but obvious- taken a bit before they’d finished their first North American headlining tour. They’re standing in front of some L.A. radio station banner, with some nameless host (he thinks he may have been the same one from this time around but honestly, they all blend together). All of their smiles are a bit rough, but Harry’s eyes show no expression, his dimples barely showing as he stands about six inches away from Niall, arms behind his back. Louis touches his face softly with one finger, stroking photo-Harry’s cheek before setting the photo aside, digging deeper into the box and pulling out a packet of photos, bundled together and unopened. A sticky note reads _MSG pics from Dani, have a look! x Liam_. He unwraps the bundle, flipping through a few before stopping.

His heart nearly gives out right then and there.

It’s from the after party. He vaguely remembers Danielle snapping photos there, but has no memory of this photo. He’s sitting on the ground, against a wall, face split wide in laughter and head lolling drunkenly onto El’s shoulder. She’s on her phone, wearing a neutral expression (or, perhaps, looking a little pissy- she hadn’t been pleased at his state heading home that night). But the edge of the photo catches his attention.

About two feet off to the side of his own drunken self, Zayn and Harry are seated, leaning against the wall as well. Zayn is looking at the camera, hand outstretched and mouth open, as if he was telling Danielle off for taking the picture. 

Harry’s face looks utterly broken. He’s looking off camera slightly, but he’s biting his lip and the camera’s managed to capture the sadness in his eye. Louis looks a bit closer, and can see the flash has illuminated a single tear making it’s way down his cheek.

Louis feels his heart clench. He drops the stack photos, pushing the box away from him. In what should’ve been their happiest moment, Harry couldn’t even bring himself to fake a smile. What kind of life was that to be leading? 

_What you were then, I am today_  
 _Look at the things I do_

He looks down at his own hands, watching them shake as a sob rips through his body. He feels like a monster.

“How?” he whispers to himself, tears flowing freely now. “How could I let myself do this to you, Harry?” And then, “How did you last so long?”

It’s fucked up, he thinks. Fucked up that it took him this long to really _see,_ to open his goddamn eyes to the mess he’d made. Him and his stupid insecurities and stupid selfishness and stupid, _stupid stupid_.

The music plays on slowly, song drawing to a close as he sits there, back against his bedroom wall, photos scattered around him and his head in his hands. He knows what he’s done, and what he has to do.

And no idea how to do it, he thinks, wiping his eyes. He drops his head back against the wall with a dull thud.

“I have no right to ask anything of you,” he says aloud, even his whisper loud in the dark stillness of the room “But please come back so I can fix this.”

_Dumbed down and numbed by time and age_  
 _Your dreams to catch the world, the cage_  
 _The highway sets the traveler's stage_  
 _All exits look the same_  
  
 _Three words that became hard to say_  
 _I and love and you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I and Love and You" by The Avett Brothers is the most perfect song and you all should go listen to it obsessively like I do


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super unedited but wanted to post before i headed out for the weekendd

They lose the sun for the first time just as Fiji slips beyond the horizon. Thick, grey clouds loom ahead of them, the humidity dropping sharply. 

Harry’s sitting with Gloria, curled up inside on the couch, watching her flip through an old photo album and listening to old stories about her travels. The temperature has dropped sharply since they left port, leading them to seek refuge inside. May and Bree had ran up to the cockpit immediately, shouting something about needing to get the weather report from Doc. 

Gloria’s halfway through a tale about an incidence in a club in Spain when she was in her 20’s when the door to the deck bursts open. May races in, a wicked smile on her face.

“Gloria,” she pants, “did you bring those cords I asked you to grab?” 

“Of course, dear, I think I gave them to Chase,” Gloria says simply. May fist pumps, letting out a shout of excitement.

“CHASE! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU HIDING, YOU USELESS LUMP?” May yells, storming past Harry and Gloria towards the stairs. She pauses when she yanks the door open, turning back. “Harold. Outside. 5 minutes.” 

She slams the door behind her, and Harry can hear her hollering all the way down the stairs. _What the hell is she on all the_ time, he finds himself thinking to himself. He looks over at Gloria, confused. She offers slight laugh, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I gave up trying to figure out that girl’s mind a long time ago, Harry dear. She only was in school in Australia for two years and she would've put any class clown to shame,” she says, standing and closing the photo album, a fond look on her face as she looks off to where May disappeared. She reaches over and pats his shoulder. “I’d scoot your butt outside, I have no doubts she’ll forcibly drag you out there.

 

 

 

 

 

And so, Harry finds himself on deck, standing dumbfounded as the boat rocks underneath him.

“You’re going to _what?_ ” he exclaims incredulously. They’re near the bow of the boat. May’s ignoring his question, standing further up with Chase attaching cords to either side of the boat, extending towards the front.

“God, Harry, it’s not the complicated! This storm’s not more then a little bit of wind, so there’ll actually be a bit of waves to cut through. Think Titanic. Except smaller scale so you can really _feel_ the sea underneath you. Except instead of a dashing, amazingly hunky young Leo behind you, you’ve got these cords to keep you from pitching off. Which kinda sucks. But Doc made it clear we turn around for nothing, so we’ll have to sacrifice,” Bree sighs.

Harry continues to stare. Sure, the waves weren’t anything scary _now_ , but up at the very front, standing over the edge? He can see the way the bow dips and rises from here, with water spraying up every so often. He gulps audibly.

“Are you quite sure that’s safe?” he croaks, turning to Breezy. She grins at him.

“Oh, we’ve done _much_ bigger waves than this. But still. Probably not,” she says, winking.

“Then why the hell do you do it?”

“To feel _alive_ , Harry. It’s the thing most people so easily forget they are, you know? I think everyone needs a reminder every once and a while. Oi, May!” she calls, turning her attention to the front. “Who said you could go first?”

“Should’ve helped set up!” May calls, from where she’s now hooked in. The cords attach to what looks to be an old rocking climbing harness, the vibrant blue of it contrasting with how grey the water has become. Chase tightens the cords as she walks forward and swings herself gracefully over the railing and onto the bow. Harry can see from here that there’s just enough room for one person to stand comfortably. He holds his breath as she hangs onto the railing, facing the water.

“Am I steady?” he hears her call, voice muffled by the wind.

“You’re good!” Chase answers, giving the cord a final tug before reattaching it to the railing. Harry watches with bated breath as she lets go, keeping her back against the railing but throwing her arms into the air. She let’s out a long yell, getting cut off when a wave breaks awkwardly, dousing her with salt water. Harry hears her cough and sputter. Breezy roars with laughter next to him.

“I can hear you laughing, you brat, I’ll make sure Doc goes full speed ahead for you!” May calls out. She let’s out another long whoop before lifting herself back over the railing. Chase loosens the cords and she walks over to Harry and Bree. She’s soaked, hair dark and wild and clothes clinging to her small frame.

“Alright, Harry, what do ya say?” she asks him, taking the harness off as she speaks. His eyes widen.

“I say you’re absolutely mental,” he replies, taking a step back as she offers up the harness.

“Aw, come on ya wuss, get up there!” Bree whines, pouting at him. He looks between the two of them, both making increasingly ridiculous pleading faces. He sighs.

“Just remember,” he says, yanking the harness out of May’s grasp. “That I am an international pop star, and some people will be very unhappy if you get me killed.”

“You cocky bastard,” Bree says through a smile.

“Don’t worry, I promised to bring you back in one piece,” May says, going around to help him fasten the harness in the back. Harry furrows his brow, wondering if he heard her right. 

“Promised who?” he asks accusingly, craning his neck to look at her. She shrugs her shoulders, not looking up.

“Well, indirectly, the whole of your fandom, I suppose. Wouldn’t want them coming after me. But come on now, get up there, while we’ve still got good wind!” she smacks his ass and he yelps, turning to swat at her. He ends up tripping as he feels himself being tugged backwards and he turns to see Chase pulling at the cords, grinning. 

“ABUSE!” he shouts. “All of you are completely mental!” He hears May and Bree laughing behind him and feels hands pushing him forward. On shaky legs he makes his way towards the bow, feeling the Chase adjust the cords with each step he takes. This must be what a marionette feels like. Funny, he used to tell Zayn that’s what he felt like most days. He hadn’t realized how accurate his description had been.

He reaches the railing and runs his hand over the top railing, feeling out a good grip. It’s slick, and he takes a few moments to think up a plan to swing himself over safely.

“Oi, this ain’t no beauty pageant, quit your posing!” he hears May yell over the wind. He flips her off behind his back and manages to (miraculously) clamber over the railing somewhat gracefully. He clings onto it still, legs shaking.

“Ready when you are, Styles! Just keep your back against the bars!” Chase yells. Harry gulps and squeezes his eyes shut, shifting his body to completely face the front. He lets go with one hand, giving Chase a thumbs-up. He eases his left hand off slowly, feeling each dip of the bow underneath him. He takes a shuddery breath, then forces his eyes open.

It’s breathtaking. There’s nothing but grey water extending in front of him, shifting up and down and the boat cuts through the waves. The wind hits him mercilessly, and his eyes begin to water. He forces them to stay open, taking deep, steadying breaths as he watches a slightly larger swell approaching. His view shifts up to the bleak sky, before plummeting back down. He let’s out a yelp as he feels his stomach drop, his whole body jolting with adrenaline. Cool seawater sprays up, soaking his t-shirt.

He can’t help himself then. His body is pulsing with energy as he let’s out a long cry of exhilaration, throwing his hands into the air. It’s incredible. _This_ was once the reason he sprinted on stage every night. For this exact feeling; one that he hadn’t felt in months, one he hadn’t been sure he’d ever feel again.

Harry’s not sure how long he stays up there, but it’s long enough to capture that feeling, to lock it away the next time he feels himself slipping.

 

 

 

 

 

The rain comes not long after Bree nearly pitches herself off, so they retreat into the cabins, seeking lukewarm showers and dry clothes. Harry walks into him, May and Bree’s cabin still shivering, despite his sweatpants and thick jumper. May’s sprawled on his bottom bunk, looking up, deep in thought, chewing on the end of a pen. A notebook rests abandoned on her stomach.

“Writing more music?” he asks, tossing his towel in the general direction of his bag. May starts, before tossing the notebook onto the ground.

“I might be,” she says nonchalantly. “Come over here, let’s chat.” She scoots over, padding the small strip of bed next to her. Harry clambers over, lying down next to her. She moves so her head is resting on his shoulder.

“So. Hawaii,” she begins. Harry turns his head to look at her. “We’ll have more definite phone service. Anyone you’re thinking of calling?”

He turns to look at the bunk above them, lips pursed. He hasn’t really thought about it, to be honest. He wasn’t too excited to deal with talking to management, security or the boys about his rash decision in Sydney. He’d sent his mom a longer text message, knowing that she’d worry but keep her mouth shut, and he’d _kinda_ tried to tell Niall not worry, but. Still. The fall out from this wasn’t going to be fun.

And then there’s Louis, of course. Harry has no idea what he’s going to say to the older boy when they’re face to face again.

He hasn’t realized that he didn’t answer May’s question until she speaks again.

“I think I might finally call my brother,” she offers softly. Harry turns to look at her again. She’s staring at the top bunk, lips pursed. “Just. See how he’s been these past couple years.” 

“Have you spoken to him since leaving?” Harry asks. May snorts- not the reaction he’d been expecting.

“Didn’t tell him I was leaving. Doubt he noticed for a couple days, either,” she turns to look at him, noting his confusion with a sigh. “I suppose I ought to tell you a story, then.” 

Harry rolls onto his side to face her properly. She bits her lip, seemingly thinking of where to begin, before finally clearing her throat.

“Alright then. So Jake’s quite a bit older than me- 10 years, to be exact. My parents had him right out of high school. By the time I was 8, he’d already packed up and shipped off to UCLA, so I pretty much grew up as an only child. He’d come back for school break every so often, but we never really had that close sibling relationship. When I was…13, I believe, I remember starting to overhear snippets of arguments between my parents and him. Bits about his partying, how they suspected drug use, but mainly a lot of stuff that went over my head. By that time he’d gotten his own apartment outside of L.A., so I saw him even less.” 

“A month before I turned 15, my parents were killed in a bad car crash on their way home from dinner. Drunk driver hit them head-on on the freeway. To be honest, all the months following- February, March, April- are all kind of blurry. But Jake became my legal guardian, and I ended up going to live with him in his shitty apartment. And that’s when I started to see how much of a mess his life was.”

May sighs, shaking her head. Harry reaches out to grab her hand, and she grips it tightly, frowning. 

“He was barely getting by as an intern at a small radio station, going out partying every night and coming home drunk and high on God knows what, I saw more than my fair share of substances laying around the apartment. So I kept to myself, went to school, but never really let myself become a part of that life. I felt wrong, I felt out of place, cause I’d literally been plucked from my old life and been told go on, make something happen. That’s when I started seriously writing music, because the paper always listened.” 

“Jake overdosed in June, three months after I turned 16. They called the landline at like 2 in the morning and I took a cab over right away and God, I feel so guilty but I couldn’t help think about how _pathetic_ he looked in that hospital bed, shaking and throwing up. He had no control anymore. I just…I remember running from that room as fast as I could and just curling up and crying in a chair outside. And that would be where Austin found me, and God, I just looked at him and it was like…”

She trails off, searching for the right words, but Harry understands. Of course he does. He knows the feeling all too well.

“Felt like you were being swept away, like his eyes were the only thing keeping you on your feet?” She smiles weakly, and nods. 

“Exactly that. And more. I had told him my life story before the end of the week, even the parts about running away, which I hadn’t even realized I was considering. And I knew he wasn’t here permanently. He told me about his treatments, about how promising his prognosis was, about missing his amazing friends from home- they’re a bunch of idiots, if you ask me, especially that blonde one,” Harry lets out a bark of laughter at that, picturing Bree’s indignant expression if she had been around to hear that comment.

“I don’t know when I made my decision. Maybe it was the night I had dinner with Gloria, and she was just so lovely and understanding that I ended up crying right there in the restaurant. Maybe it was later, when Austin first kissed me outside Jake’s apartment, and took a picture as soon as we broke apart. But I just knew that this was what I had to do. I wrote Jake a long letter, begging him to get clean and pull himself together and saying that I’d come back some day to see it. And I left. And there hasn’t been a single day I’ve regretted it.”

Harry can feel the tears in his eyes; can hear the raw emotion in his voice as he speaks.

“That’s the bravest thing I’ve heard anyone do,” he says. She smiles at him sadly.

“You do crazy things for the people you love,” she replies simply. “And it hurts a lot of the time. More often than not it’s a right bitch. But you’ve got to give it a chance to heal.”

Harry’s quiet, lost in his thoughts, trying to piece together the right words. 

“I feel like I’m out of chances to give,” he finally states sadly. May studies him intently, biting her lip.

“I saw him back in that club, you know. Before I came over. I was watching you all. He couldn’t have spared that poor girl more than 2 seconds worth of glances. But when he looked at you…my god, there was something broken in his eyes. And it gave me chills,” she reaches up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I want you to give it a final chance. You haven’t been together, but I’m not sure he fully understands the magnitude of _losing_ you since you spend nearly every waking hour together. Right now, he thinks he’s truly gone and lost you. That’s a terrifying feeling, Harry, it consumed me in the months after Austin died. And as much as it sucks, sometimes that’s what it takes to make you realize how much you need someone. So if he can’t see that now, then walk away, and I swear to God we will take you to whatever corner of the globe you so desire to see. But if he comes to you…I mean, look at the state you’re in, Harry. You had something good and right and _real_ and that’s so fucking rare. I hate clichés but fuck it, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

“They paved paradise, put up a parking lot,” Harry sings softly, a small smile playing across his face. May smacks his shoulder, frowning, but the corners of her mouth are struggling to stay down.

 “I try to get all sentimental and wise for you and you’re still an idiot,” she sighs. Harry chuckles and pulls her into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly. “I miss him. I miss all of them, but I’ve missed him the longest and it hasn’t gotten any less painful.”

“Then we’ll fix this,” May whispers back, voice muffled from where her face is buried in Harry’s shoulder. “And if he’s still an asshole when we get back, I’ll dump his sorry ass into the middle of the Atlantic and make him swim to shore.”

Harry laughs loudly at this, overwhelmed by gratitude. May pulls away to look at him, a strange smile playing across her face.

“Also, you have a surprise waiting in Hawaii.”

 

 

 

 

 

The surprise makes itself known when the pull into port a few days later, the hot sun beating down mercilessly. Harry first hears it as he’s opening the door out to the deck.

“Oi, watch how hard you throw those lines, mate!” comes a familiar, disgruntled voice. Harry can’t help the wide grin that breaks across his face as he drops his bags, meeting his band mate’s eyes. 

“Weyhey, then!” Niall yells. He’s wearing a t-shirt and obnoxiously bright floral swim trunks, his face already tinged pink from the sun. “Lookatchu, Haz, you bronze god. Someone’s been enjoying their impromptu vacation!” 

Harry hoists himself over the railing, jumping onto the deck and running into Niall, crushing him into a bear hug. He hears and feels Niall’s laugh, rumbling through his entire body, and he feels a hand card through his hair.

“Missed ya, you wanker,” Niall mutters. “Doing alright, then?”

“Never better,” Harry replies. 


	13. Chapter 13

_“Hi sweetie, I know I’m not supposed to worry about you but I wouldn’t be a mum if I didn’t now, would I? Just gimme a call when you can please, I’ve told Niall to pass this message along when he finds you. I love you!”_

Harry sighs, dropping the phone from his ear finally. He flops backwards onto the queen-sized hotel bed. The fourteenth and final message from his mother, one for every day he had been out of contact. Despite the message he had left her detailing where he was going. And the letter he had sent from Sydney. And the postcard from Fiji.

“Get that look off yer face, people are allowed to worry about you, ya know,” Niall says, dropping heavily into an armchair across the room. He flings his baseball hat off to the side, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Even those of us who were blessed to know where ya fucked off too.”

Harry lets out a long sigh anyway, finishing it with a grunt. Two weeks had left him with nearly a hundred voicemails and nearly three times as many text messages from friends, family and management alike. Many he had deleted without a thought, but he took the time to listen to his mother’s cheery yet concerned messages, Zayn’s angry rants, Liam’s rational yet stern lectures. Even Niall had left one, a rather comical one from Heathrow complaining about the hefty flight he was about to embark on and how Hawaii had “better be pretty fucking magical for this kind of bullshit.”

One voice in particular was missing from the messages, but Harry’s definitely not thinking about that.

“Oi, do you reckon they’d let us play a show out here? It’s quite pretty. And calm. Everyone’s just kinda chill, doing their own thing.”

“Niall.”

“They’ve got some kind of stadium right? One of them American football-y ones? Man, their travel schedule must be a bitch then.”

“ _Niall."_  

“Maybe we could play every island! Just small little gigs, could do some acoustic stuff with my guitar-“

“NIALL!” Harry all but shouts, finally heaving a pillow at the rambling boy. Niall catches and chucks it back with just as much force.

“Yes, dear?” he asks. Harry puts the pillow over his face, grumbling. 

“What am I going to do now?” he groans. “We’re in the States, people are going to _recognize_ me, what do I say?”

“What, you don’t think we’ve been spreading a story? You collapsed back stage from exhaustion, which became more concerning when Louis when through the same thing, so they called off the rest of the tour. Gonna have to make it up somehow, but this shit happens. Artists get sick all the time, really. Actually, more often than you think, the list Louis rattled off to management was quite surprising, did you know that the Beatles-“ 

“Wait, Louis came up with that?” Harry sits up on the bed, eyes suddenly wide. Louis had covered his tracks for him. That’s unexpected.

“Course he did, he’s been a right twat these past couple of weeks, ya know. Very convincing for the paps though, especially with them now that they’ll be hounding him about the break up.”

“Break up?” Harry splutters out, confused. Did Niall mean that…?

“Yeah, him and El are donezo, dumped her a couple days ago. She hasn't been very quiet about it, but he's clammed right up. Crap, probably should’ve said that sooner, sorry mate, didn’t know what state of mind you were in.”

Harry remains silent, staring at the bed sheets. Louis had broken up with Eleanor. Harry had disappeared, and Louis had dumped his ‘perfect’ girlfriend. His mind is racing; trying to picture what had been going on in Louis’ mind. 

“How is he?” Harry manages finally. Niall leans forward in his chair, clasping his hands together on his knees. 

“Honestly? He’s a mess, Haz, I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always so sure of himself, you know? Loud and proud. And he’s just been…quiet. You can see him question everything he says, he doesn’t leave the flat much unless we drag him out of it. Went over one time and found him asleep at his laptop looking at flights back to Australia, reckon he was gonna try to come find you,” Niall pauses, scratching at his ear. Harry thinks his brain might have short-circuited. “Listen, Harry, I know you guys were a mess, and that he’s probably the last person you owe a conversation too, but do you think you could just, I dunno, give him a call or something? He’s got that whole dead eyes look going on that you used to wear times like a billion, don’t think I can put up with it much longer.”

Harry swallows thickly. He isn’t quite sure how to feel about Louis’ state. Guilty that he was the cause? Happy that Louis finally knows how it feels to be left? What will he even say to him if he does call him? Would Louis even answer?

“I…I guess I can at least give him a ring, tell him I’m alright,” Harry says hesitantly. Niall’s face brightens.

“Excellent!” Niall pulls out his phone, checking the time. “Noon here, so that makes it what, 11ish back home? God, how did we even keep track of time?” He shoves his phone back in his pocket, standing and grabbing his hat from where he’d discarded it earlier. “I’m gonna head out to the beach then, you give him a try now, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Harry says softly, watching Niall start to leave. A thought hits him just as he’s opened the door. “Hey, Niall. How’d you know to come here anyways?”

“May told me, back in Sydney!” he smiles broadly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Told me to be at the dock here at this time and date, so I booked a flight as soon as they flew us back to London.  She must’ve known I was the most trustworthy or something! Don’t worry, I kept your secret, although Liam was about ready to murder me when I asked him to drop me off at the airport! Wouldn’t tell him where I was going!” With a laugh, he’s out the door. Harry stares after him, a small smile creeping its way onto his face. It dissipates soon, as he begins to think about the conversation awaiting him. He feels around the bed for where he’d dropped his phone, and begins to scroll through his contacts.

 

 

 

 

 

The television is blaring, but Louis lost track of what show had come on hours ago. His eyes burn a bit, but he focuses intensely on his phone. It’s his last life on Candy Crush, and really, this was what his life has boiled down to these last few days. Harry still missing, fans speculating all over Twitter over the cause of his break-up with Eleanor, paps staking out all across London looking for the story behind the mystery that had become One Direction. Hiding inside seems like his best option, all things considered. He's not sure he even has the answer to many of the questions they've been asking.

He swears to himself as he miss-swipes. He’d slowly sunk down on the couch, making his hands less and less steady. Pathetic, he thinks as he watches another row blow up. He goes to swipe again but his screen is frozen. He frowns, going to try again when the game closes itself, and the ‘incoming call’ screen flashes.

He nearly drops his phone on his face in shock.

_Incoming Call…Harry Styles_

 

 

 

 

Louis answers on the third ring, his voice crackling at first over the long distance connection. Harry’s stomach flips at the first sound of his voice.

“Hello?” Louis’ voice comes out shaky, and Harry notes the heavy uncertainty in his voice. He clears his throat.

“Hey, Lou,” he says slowly. He hears Louis suck in a deep breath over the line.

“Harry,” he breathes into the phone, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. “God, hi, are you-are you ok?”

“I-yeah, I’m alright,” Harry lets out a nervous laugh, walking over to the glass door leading out to the room’s balcony. There isn’t a single cloud in the sky, and the sea sparkles in the unforgiving sun. “I’m in Hawaii, Lou. Niall’s just shown up.” He hears Louis scoff over the line.

“That idiot. He’ll burn to a crisp,” he says, and Harry lets himself laugh. Silence falls as he opens the sliding glass door, slipping out into the warm air. From here, he can see Niall stripping his shirt off by where Bree and Chase are lounging in chairs. He spies a group of girls standing off to the side, whispering, no doubt questioning whether or not _the_ Niall Horan is at their hotel. He hears Louis sigh heavily into the receiver. 

“Harry, listen, I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past weeks-“ Harry finds himself shaking his head, interrupting Louis. He can see the sea out past the pool, waves crashing in the distance without sound.

“Louis, stop,” Harry runs a hand over his face, swallowing past the lump he can already feel forming in his throat. He can picture Louis stuttering to a stop, mouth snapping shut, eyes confused. “Sorry, it’s just-I feel like we keep having this conversation and it never gets us _anywhere_. I couldn’t just keep going through the motions, putting on a smile for the crowds when my mind was stuck in the past. I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t think I am there anymore.”

“Harry-“

“No, please, I need to get this out, Lou,” Harry looks out at the pool, watching Niall push May off the deck and into the deep end. He can faintly make out her shrill shriek of surprise. “Everything was easy with you at first, till it wasn’t. I’ve thought a lot about this, trying to figure out what happened. I still don’t know why, and I reckon you could tell me everything and I wouldn’t understand why. Maybe it was me, and-“

“It wasn’t you,” Louis interjects suddenly. Harry shuts his mouth, letting Louis interrupt. “God, it was always you and it was never you. It was me, I was a coward and saw an easy way out, and I took it, and-“

“Stop, stop,” Harry can feel his voice wavering. “We can’t change that, Louis. Being gone, I’ve learned so much about-about life and love, and pain and moving on, and I want to move on, Lou, that’s all I want now.” He can feel the tears springing to the corners of his eyes now, and he bites lip. He had mulled over this conversation, thought of each thing he needed to say and ask, but none of it seemed right. Louis lets out a shaky sigh thousands of miles away.

“Okay,” Louis says, voice cracking. “I understand, I-“

“Louis,” Harry says firmly, a question forming on the tip of his tongue. It's the right one. He knows it. “I need to know if you can move on with me.”

There’s a sudden intake of breath, and then silence. Harry clenches his phone tightly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches the people below him. Two of the girls have approached Niall and he’s posing for a picture with them. He spots May swimming across the pool, hanging onto the side of the pool out of Niall’s line of sight. As soon as he steps back from the picture, May pushes herself out of the water, grabbing at his knees and pulling him off balance enough to send him crashing into the water.

“Do you really want that?” Louis says softly, and it pains Harry to hear how small and broken his voice sounds. 

“I do, Lou, I really do. I tried to picture myself without you, and I fucking hate it," he sighs, licking his lips. "But I can’t be left like that again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back if you leave me again.”

“I won’t,” Louis whispers. “I won’t, I promise, I’ll do anything to prove that to you, Haz.”

Harry breathes deeply, closing his eyes. He’s putting himself out on the edge, he knows that, but he has to put some faith in Louis. There’s sincerity in his voice, laced in with the sadness. He thinks about the past two weeks, about the different stories he’s heard, about everything they’ve taught him. He needed Louis, as fucked up as it was. He’d always needed Louis. And maybe there was a chance that Louis needed him just as much. 

“Okay,” Harry says finally. “In five days, we’re set to dock in San Francisco. If-if you’re there, and you’re ready, then I’ll know. That you want this. That you’ll try.”

“God, yes, of course Harry,” Louis says, all in one breathe.

“Don’t-don’t promise me anything now, okay? Just know, that, well, that’s where I’ll be waiting,” Harry squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to get too worked up. He hears Louis mutter an _okay,_ but. He might not show. He could show. They could arrive to San Francisco late, or early, or something could happen to the boat...

Harry opens his eyes, once again searching for the familiar faces down by the pool, searching for anything to calm himself down. He finds Bree and Chase in the water, engrossed in a clumsy game of chicken against May and Niall. The four of them fit well together, he decides, letting his mind be distracted. May must have spotted him, because all of a sudden she’s waving furiously in his direction. He offers a small wave in return, realizing how long he must have been on the phone. 

“I’ve gotta go, okay?” he says tentatively. He hears Louis make a strangled sort of noise in protest. “I-you know where I’ll be, if you want to, okay?”

“Okay,” Louis sighs. “Okay. I’ll see you in San Francisco, Harry.” The receiver clicks dead, and Harry stares at his phone for a long while, thinking. He lets his body calm down, looking back out at the pool. All four individuals are waving now, and he can faintly make out his name being called. He shakes his head, running one hand through his hair as he waves back, before turning to walk back into the hotel room.

It isn’t fixed, but it’s a start. It's a chance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That night, the group gathers on a rather secluded part of the beach with a fire, a cooler of beers, and Chase’s guitar. Gloria and Doc hang behind, pleading that their old bones can’t keep up with the young ones, and that they both need their beauty sleep.

No one had pressed for details when Harry had finally emerged from his hotel room, and for that, he’s grateful. He isn’t even sure what he would tell them if they had asked. He had given Niall an extra-long hug when he’d seen them, thanking him a million times for flying out, to which Niall had replied-

“C’mon, you can’t be the only bastard around here that gets to go on an adventure!” 

And so here they are gathered, exchanging stories with Niall to piece together the past two weeks of the world. Harry is happy to just listen in, nodding his head and smiling as he sips his beer. His mind is still a bit scrambled, but he feels at peace for the moment.

“Well, I personally think that we’ve created a better, wiser Harry for you to bring back, Niall, so you are very welcome,” May is saying, a smug look on her face. She’s sitting next to Niall, leaning back to rest on her elbows. Harry raises an eyebrow from across the fire pit.

“Oh really?” he asks. May nods, shifting to sit up straight.

“Really! Come, Harold, would you really be in this good of shape after that phone conversation-oh come off it, we’re not _oblivious_ ,” she adds when Harry shoots her a look. Niall coughs nervously, hiding his face in his elbow as Harry levels his gaze onto him. Most trustworthy, his ass.

“I think we’ve all learned a lot,” Breezy interjects. “I mean, think about it, really. I think Austin would’ve been proud of us. We took all that bad shit and pushed it aside to make room for the good times. It’s like that Taylor Swift song! You know, the one about looking back and thinking, I’m ok with this, life happens and we can move on.” 

Niall lets out a bark of laughter, looking at Harry pointedly.

“Careful mentioning that name round this one!” he says good-naturedly. Harry flicks a bit of sand at him.

“She was a perfectly nice girl, Niall, I’ve said it a thousand times, there was just no way we would ever have worked.”

“Cause she didn’t have a dick?” May asks, pulling a face. Niall lets out another laugh and high-fives her, nearly spilling both their drinks. Harry rolls his eyes at the two of them. _There_ was a troublesome pair if he ever saw one. 

“Whatever, whatever. Harry, you know I’m right, have your Taylor Swift moment, god knows I’ve been stuck in mine for years. Come on, Chase you know which one I’m talking about!” Bree looks at him pleadingly, until he too rolls his eyes, reaching for his guitar. A wide grin splits her face as he starts a few fast chords. “Come on, May, you know it too, don’t bullshit me.” May rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, setting her beer aside. Breezy twirls as she starts singing, blonde hair whipping around as her white dress spins up, dancing around her legs.

 

_I was reminiscing just the other day,_   
_While having coffee all alone and Lord, it took me away._   
_Back to a first-glance feeling on New York time._   
_Back when you fit in my poems like a perfect rhyme._

May’s standing at this point, jogging over to where Bree is singing. Niall lets out a noise of protest as she kicks up sand by him as she passes, but she ignore him, belting out the next line through a wide smile.

  
_Took off faster than a green light, go,_   
_Hey, skip the conversation when you already know._   
_I left a note on the door with a joke we’d made,_   
_And that was the first day._

Bree stops and grabs May’s hand, clutching at her chest dramatically as she sings to her.

 

_And darling, it was good never looking down._   
_And right there where we stood was holy ground._

May grins and takes off, running behind to where Sam is quietly sitting next to Chase to muss up his hair. He flinches, flailing his arms to try to fight her off. She laughs and steps back, singing to the sky as she spins.

 

_Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress,_   
_We had this big wide city all to ourselves._   
_We blocked the noise with the sound of ‘I need you’,_   
_And for the first time I had something to lose,_

Bree skips up next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She puts their heads together, pulling dramatic faces as she sings as if she's Broadway's newest star and not simply covering a pop song. Harry can’t help but laugh at the pair, meeting Niall’s eye from across the fire. Niall nods at him, grinning and raising his bottle in acknowledgment.

 

_And I guess we fell apart in the usual way._   
_And the story’s got dust on every page,_   
_But sometimes I wonder how you think about it now._   
_And I see your face in every crowd._

_Cause darling, it was good never looking down._   
_And right there where we stood was holy ground._

May races over to Harry, grabbing at his arm in an attempt to bring him to his feet. He stumbles, struggling to set his beer down without spilling it. She looks at him expectantly, hand extended out towards him. He shakes his head at her, smiling, before grabbing her hand and twirling her as she sings.

 

_Tonight I’m gonna dance for all that we’ve been through._   
_But I don’t wanna dance if I’m not dancing with you._   
_Tonight I’m gonna dance like you were in this room._   
_But I don’t wanna dance if I’m not dancing with you_

 

Bree’s leaning over Chase now, head resting on his shoulder as he plays. Harry can see that he’s trying to control the massive grin on his face as she sings softly along to the chorus.

 

_It was good never looking down_

_And right there where we stood was holy ground._

Niall’s on his feet now too, laughing and grabbing at Harry’s hand. Harry rolls his eyes dramatically before twirling him as well. He yelps suddenly as Niall maneuvers them so that he’s dipping Harry low, but they’re off balance and fall to the sand in a heap, laughing like mad men. They both let out a loud _oof_ as May dives on top of them, timing it perfectly with the end of the song.

 

_Tonight I’m gonna dance for all that we’ve been through._   
_But I don’t wanna dance if I’m not dancing with you._   
_Tonight I’m gonna dance like you were in this room._   
_But I don’t wanna dance if I’m not dancing with you._

They all dissolve into laughter at the end, as Bree launches herself from Chase’s side to add on to the pile of bodies. Harry can hear an iPhone camera go off and assume Chase or Sam have snapped a photo of the mess in front of them. He’ll need a copy of it to frame when he gets home, he thinks to himself, grunting as someone shifts and his face gets smushed into the ground.   

“If anyone,” Harry says slowly, spitting sand out of his mouth, “mentions anything about me dancing to a Taylor Swift song, they’re going overboard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a taylor swift problem. i both hate it and love it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read this message quick!
> 
> I've tentatively put a final chapter number up, because i think i know where i want to have this end so i think 2-3 more chapters (likely including an epilogue) should do it. THAT BEING SAID, i also depart on June 8th for London (from north america, like swapping places with the boys COME ON). i will try to update at the very least once more before i leave, but i'm not sure i'll have the time to completely finish between packing and what not. i'll be gone for 3 weeks. i'm just saying this now so y'all dont freak out when the regular updates stop for a bit. i hope i can leave you in a place where you don't hate me lol (or finish by some miracle!!).
> 
> but anyway. thank you for reading and sticking with me!
> 
> as always, I OWN NOTHING. and that makes me sad.

“So this is where the magic happens then?” Niall asks, looking around the deck of the boat. The sun is slowly sinking as they load up the boat for the final time. A mere four days separates them for the final destination. Little butterflies have started fluttering in Harry’s stomach as they prepare for the final leg of the trip. 

Time flies, he thinks, before realizing he’s ignoring Niall.

“Err, yeah, this is it. It’s, uh, it’s a boat,” he says, shrugging. Wow, he’d never even bothered to learn anything technical about it. Front is bow. Back is stern. He makes a mental note to have May give him a crash course so he can pretend to be a knowledgeable sailor when his mother makes him recount the whole adventure.

“Still as articulate as always, eh?” Niall chuckles, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders as the boat shudders, slowly pulling away from the marina. The two lean against the deck railing, watching the sun get pulled behind Hawaii’s land mass. The sky shifts through shades of orange and yellow and pink as the mountains and trees become nothing more than dark silhouettes. The boat hums underneath them, lulling them into an easy silence. This is the easy part of leaving, Harry thinks. The moment when the only thing on your mind is the promise of your destination, and not what you’re leaving behind. It’s reversed itself since he’d left Sydney. Then, he’d been so focused on the unknown that leaving the boys had been heartbreakingly easy. Now, the prospect of returning to the very things he left behind has him at peace with the idea of missing the boat, the travels, the sea, the people…

SLAM.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHO FILLED MY BED WITH _COCONUTS?_ ” Harry and Niall whip around to see Bree standing in the doorway to the main cabin, the offending object in hand. Harry spots movement out of the corner of his eye, and watches May approach slowly, struggling and failing to hide the growing smile on her face. Bree spots her in seconds expression becoming murderous.

“That’s it, you’re going overboard!” she shrieks, dropping the coconut and sprinting across the deck. May let’s out a yelp, still grinning, and darts around the corner, disappearing to the other side of the boat. Niall lets out a hearty laugh next to him, nearly doubling over, but Harry just shakes his head.

Maybe he needs to rethink missing the people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This whole getting-to-San Francisco ordeal is not turning out how Louis imagined it.

“What do you mean ‘I can’t just _waltzed_ off to San Francisco?’ You let Niall go to fucking _Hawaii_ ,” Louis argues, glaring at the two stone-faced men in front of him. He’s been in here for nearly an hour. _An hour_. He still has plane tickets to buy and he’s planned on leaving tomorrow.

“Mr. Horan provided us with a valid reason for international travel, he’s staying off the grid and visiting his sister and her boyfriend-“ Louis sputters, waving his hands to interrupt the brown-haired man. As opposed to the blonde one. Should he know who these men are?

“His _sister?_ For Christ’s sake do you know _anything_ about _any_ of your clients? He doesn’t have a bloody sister, much less one in Hawaii of all places,” Louis doesn’t mean to raise his voice. He really doesn’t. It’s just that apparently their own management team doesn’t know jack shit about their clients.

The blonde one turns red in the face while the brown haired one raises his eyebrows skeptically, reaching for a piece of paper on his desk.

“Well, he provided us with photo documentation,” Brown Hair says, handing Louis the paper. There’s a black and white photo printed on it of a couple grinning, standing at what looks to be the bow of the boat. It takes Louis two seconds to recognize the loud dancing girl from the bar when El had visited. He rolls his eyes, shoving the paper back at the two frowning men.

“He provided you with a lot of horseshit, that’s what he did,” Louis yells. The two men look at each other, flustered. “If that’s all it takes, I can get you a picture of Lottie in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, just give men ten minutes and a decent version of Photoshop.”

Blonde Man whispers something to Brown Hair, who nods and pushes himself up from his seat, leaving the office. Blonde man folds his hands in front of him, eyeing Louis, who squirms in his seat.

“Regardless of your band mate’s family tree, Mr. Tomlinson, _at the time_ it was a valid story, and you have yet to provide us with any reason whatsoever! Flying off to America isn’t exactly keeping with our under-the-radar policy we are enforcing during this hiatus!" 

Louis inhales sharply. In his haste to get everything prepared to go, he hadn’t had time to even come up with one lame bullshit reason as to why he was suddenly dead set on going to San Francisco. For five days. Alone. And then hopefully returning with Harry, but he had chosen to leave that part out of his argument/

Blonde Man has turned to his laptop, clicking every so often and muttering to himself. He turns to Louis, eyes void of emotion.

“If you’ve got nothing for me, I have one story to offer. We can spin it and send you to Los Angeles, say you’re working on getting over the girl you’ve loved for nearly two years- did you even make it to two years?” the man ponders momentarily, before shaking his head and continuing. “I have a few young starlets whose agents have reached out to me, I’m sure you’ll enjoy some of their company-“

“I’m going to San Francisco to see Harry,” Louis blurts out. Blonde Man stares, eyes narrowing. Louis swallows hard, choosing his next words carefully. “I mean, to try to find Harry there. And convince him to come back when I do.”

Blonde Man turns to face Louis fully, folding his hands in front of him.

“And how, exactly, do you plan to that, Mr. Tomlinson, when our entire management team, as well as numerous investigators and not to mention thousands of reporters and even more fans, have not managed to catch a single glimpse of him?”

“Because,” Louis starts, hearing his voice crack. “Because at one point, before I fucked it all up for _your_ sake, I knew Harry better than I knew myself. So if anyone is going to find him, it’s going to be me,” he stands as he’s saying this, feeling anger boil beneath his skin. He pushes his chair into the desk sharply. “And I’m not going to give _you_ assholes another chance to break us any more than you have. So don’t be surprised if the first photo you see of him is a shot of me kissing him on top of the bloody Golden Gate Bridge!”

Blonde Man looks at him, astonishment slowly etching its way across his face. Louis grabs his jacket, which has fallen to the flower, and storms out, not bothering to take the time to slam the door behind him.

He has a plane ticket to buy.

 

 

 

 

 

“So, you all may have wondered why I’ve gathered you here today,” Bree says, clasping her hands together as she stares at the group from her perch on the arm of the couch.

“It’s raining, and you’ve locked the door to bedrooms,” Niall points out. He’s seated on the floor, back resting against the counter. The whole group, minus Doc who’s manning the cockpit, is gathered in the main cabin, sprawled across the couch and floor. They are almost exactly one day away from San Francisco, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the downshift in the general mood of the boat’s occupants. Even Niall, who’d only been with them for a few days, has been quieter, spending a lot of his time gazing out at the ocean, following the clouds drifting past them. Harry has found himself doing much of the same, leaning on the railing and watching wave after wave rumble past as they raced across the open water.

Racing home. 

“This may be true,” Breezy replies, interrupting Harry’s train of thought. “However, it is _imperative_ that you all be here for this very important announcement. Also, y’all are depressing the shit out of me with your depressing end-of-the-trip vibes.”

“Just spit it out already, Breeze,” May says from her spot on the ground between Niall and Harry. Bree shoots her a stern look before turning to look at Chase, who’s sitting next to her. He smiles and takes her hand as she looks back at the group around her.

“We’re getting married,” she says simply. Cries erupt from everyone, shouts of congratulations and happy laughter. Gloria wipes at her eyes, waving off the tissue that Sam offers her.

“When did this happen?” May exclaims, face split in a grin.

“It wasn’t anything flashy, we just were walking along the beach and got to talking and realized it was what we both wanted,” Chase says, shrugging. He’s smiling broadly as well, eyes never leaving Bree.

“I had to push him down onto one knee to make him do it properly, and lo and behold he had a ring!” Breezy’s eyes are shining as she smiles at them, and Harry thinks he finally understands how it feels when your heart melts. “May, I would like to formally ask you right now to fulfill the maid of honor duties.”

“Yes!” May screeches, launching herself at Bree and knocking her off the couch. “OH this is going to be fun, your bachelorette party is going to make _headlines._ ”

“And Sam, I want you to stand as my best man,” Chase begins, nodding at his younger brother who perks up eagerly. “But, you are young and will be going back to school eventually, so you’ll need some help with the technicalities. Which is why I would like to ask you, Harry, to help share some of the duties.”

“And it forces you to fly out for the big day,” Bree adds jokingly. Harry stares, disbelieving. They want _him_ to be a part of such an important day?

“I…”he starts, realizing words are escaping him. He’s flattered. He’s beyond flatter. He’s absolutely, positively floored by the offer.

“It’ll be a reunion of sorts! To make sure we stay in touch, ‘cause we sure aren’t letting you escape us once the big bad world of fame swallows you back up. Although I’m gonna call dibs on Niall as my plus one. He looks like he'd be the best drinking buddy, sorry Haz,” May says, reaching over to ruffle Harry’s curls. Niall grins and nudges Harry expectantly, prodding for an answer. Harry bites his lip, looking back over at Chase.

“I would be honored,” he says finally.   

“We’ll rock it!” Sam exclaims, holding his hand out for a high five. Harry obliges.

“When are you guys thinking this is all gonna happen?” Niall asks, looking towards Bree and Chase. 

“Next year, perhaps? Not in much of a rush to set an exact date, but June would be nice,” Bree says thoughtfully, looking over at Chase. He nods in agreement, shrugging as if to say _sure babe, I’m just gonna let you handle it._ Harry shakes his head, laughing to himself. It’s strange to think of the world moving forward beyond this trip. 

“What’s so funny, Haz?” Niall asks.

“It’s just weird to about going back. About how everything is going to move forward and change and life going on and all that. Haven’t given it much serious thought till now really. Didn't seem real,” Harry replies, shrugging. Niall smiles at him sympathetically.

“It’ll all be good, mate. One step at a time, ya know? What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we hit that dock?”

“Well, hopefully we don’t _hit_ it,” May says pointedly, earning herself a small shove from Niall. Harry cocks his head to the side, considering his options.

“Find Louis, if he comes. And work it out from there,” he answers finally. Niall nods, satisfied.

“And there you are. That’s all you need to worry about right now. And he’ll be there. The Tommo hasn’t let me down yet!”

Harry offers a small smile at his band mate’s optimism. Twenty-four hours to go. His stomach twists in anticipation. 

Twenty-four hours until he has to figure everything out.

 

 

 

 

 

They slow down a bit as they approach the California coast line, savoring every last moment on the water as the sun shifts into its late afternoon position. Not much is sad as the land is first spotted around dinnertime, just as the sun has begun to sink into the Pacific. Everyone titters about, packing their bags, searching for the odd item that’s made its way into the many nooks and crannies of the boat. Harry is digging behind a bunk for an old jumper when Niall strolls into the sleeping cabin, dropping heavily onto the lower bunk.

“So what are we doing in San Fran, Hazza? Little sightseeing before we jet on back to London?”

“I thought you said not to think to far ahead, Nialler,” Harry says, smiling into the space between the bed and the wall where his arm is currently wedged.

“Well yeah, but now we’re _here_ and we’ve got to do something, it’s not like we’re running straight to the airport,” Niall says. “Do you reckon Liam and Zayn will come with Lou?”

Harry freezes for a moment, feeling the fabric of the jumper at the tip of his fingers. He sighs and gives it a yank, freeing it from its confines.

“If he comes then yeah, I suppose they might,” Harry sighs, moving to cram the jumper into his already bulging duffel.

“Haz, there are very few things that could keep him from coming, and all of them are morbid. He’s realized how badly he fucked up, you’re forgetting that I’ve seen him since you left. It’ll be a reunion for the ages,” Niall lets his head fall back so that he’s spread out on the bunk. Harry smiles fondly at him.

“Thanks, Niall.” Niall nods at him, a grin stretching across his face. He stands and moves towards the door, pausing to grab a stray sock and toss it at Harry. 

“Besides, we’re close enough to use phones now. Just talked to Zayn. The three of them landed over an hour ago,” Niall says casually, walking out and leaving a stunned Harry behind him.

Louis is here.

In California. 

In _San Francisco._

He barely registers the lack of movement beneath him as he shoulders his bags and heads up to the deck. The sun has set almost fully now, and the city lights twinkle in the twilight. Harry stops to look at them, before realizing that they’re staying put, meaning they’ve docked.

“Come on, sailor, time to get your land legs ready!” Bree’s voice drifts out from somewhere on the dock, and he approaches the railing, seeing her tying off the lines. He drops his bags as Chase appears on the dock, dragging the ramp over to the where the railing opens up on the boat. Harry helps adjust it from the deck, hooking it into the railing to stabilize it.

One step at a time.

They wordlessly unload most of their belongings- a return journey looms ahead of Doc, Gloria, Chase, Bree and Sam, but not until they’ve rested and explored the area for a bit. Sam borrows a cart from the harbor officials to start moving their stuff as Chase unhooks the ramp, closing up the boat as Doc shakes hands with yet another port official. Harry has just slung his backpack over his shoulder, looking up towards the end of the dock when he sees him, and everything freezes. 

Even in the dim light, Harry can tell how tired and run down Louis looks. He’s wrapped in sweats and a jumper despite the air still carrying a bit of warmth to it, and a beanie haphazardly covers his hair. He’s standing a little ways away from the main part of the dock, by a lamp, as if he’d just spotted Harry and had began to make his way towards the boat and froze once he met Harry’s gaze. 

Time remains frozen as their eyes remained locked. Harry can make out Louis’ small, hesitant movements, as if his body wants to surge forward, only to be stopped short by his brain. He inhales sharply, dropping his bag to the ground as he feels Niall come up behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Go on, then, don’t let the doubts set in,” Niall whispers softly, and that’s it. Harry moves forward, long strides that quicken as he sees Louis move forward as well, the uncertainty leaving his face. Three, four steps separate them until Louis hits him at full force, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry can feel the breath get knocked right out of him but he stands steady. He squeezes his eyes shut and hoists Louis up, feeling his legs clamp tight around his waist. He locks his arms around Louis, supporting his full weight and clutching at his back firmly. He turns his head into Louis’ neck, inhaling the lovely, familiar scent of shampoo and cologne and just something so unique and _Louis._ Louis is here. In his arms. In the middle of a dock in San Francisco. And it’s as real as can be.

“Thank fucking _God,_ ” Louis is muttering, voice thick and cracking with emotion, and Harry realizes that he, too, has tears in his eyes. He pulls his head back, resting his forehead against Louis’, opening his eyes. The dim light doesn’t show much, but he can make out Louis’ features as well as the shine in his eyes and the tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Harry adjusts so he can bring a hand up, wiping at one of Louis’ eyes gently, chasing a tear down his cheek to his chin.

“Hi,” he whispers softly, watching as Louis’ eyes flutter shut at the sound of his voice. He can see Louis swallow thickly, watches the muscles in his throat flutter and Harry just wants to _touch touch touch_ , to make sure that this is real and he’s on shore and not just dreaming on the beach in Hawaii again.

“You came back,” Louis murmurs softly, and Harry can feel each puff of breath against his face and it sends his head spinning.

“I always do,” he replies, dropping his hand back down to Louis’ bum, lifting him and bringing him higher and closer. “Let me stay this time.”

Louis smiles weakly, eyes screwed shut as a few more tears sneak out. He opens them, and it’s like he’s staring straight through Harry, like he can see every part of him and Harry feels very, very exposed. He’s not scared. He stares right back, eyes flicking over every corner of Louis’ face, searching for an answer. 

“Always,” Louis whispers, and Harry’s done for. He tucks his face back into Louis’ neck, and feels his whole body shake as his composure breaks down. He can hear Louis mutter soothing words into his ear, promises of _always_ and _forever_ and _I’m done being an idiot_ and even an _I’ll follow you if you ever leave again, no matter where you go_.

They’ll still need to talk. There’s still broken pieces around both of them, waiting to be put back into place, but for now, underneath the twinkling city lights, they’re _them_ and they’re one and the same and they’re not letting go anytime soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a thing. good lord it's nearly 2 am.  
> please check the end for a lengthy note!

Harry and Louis end up taking a cab separate from the rest of the group, heading to the hotel where Zayn and Liam are waiting while the rest hang back to spend the night on the boat. Niall adorably stumbles through an excuse about staying, but Harry shakes his head and smiles at him. He’s been watching the way he looks at May, and simply claps him on the shoulder and leaves him with the promise of meeting up the next day.

The cab ride is quiet. Louis lets his hand rest on Harry’s thigh the whole ride, but keeps his eyes to the window, as if he’s letting his hand serve as an anchor to keep Harry from disappearing. His thigh feels like it’s on fire where his hand makes contact. Harry watches him fidget the whole ride, finally stilling when they pull up to a small, dimly lit bed and breakfast. Louis removes his hand, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“We, uh, wanted to stay under the radar, we’re not supposed to be seen. And, err, management isn’t too keen on me at the moment,” Louis says, handing the cab driver a wad of bills as they both climb out of the backseat.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, staring at the building front. It looks as if someone had taken a summer cottage and blown it out of proportion.

“Uh, reasons, you know, breaking up with El, booking a one-way flight and leaving after they forbade me too, smuggling Liam and Zayn out with me,” Louis scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Harry’s stares at him for a moment, a fond smile forming, until he hears his name called from the entrance.

“He really is here, goddamnit Harry!” Zayn stumbles out of the front door, Liam tailing close behind him. Harry quickly finds himself engulfed from two sides, clutching at both boys as the mumble greetings into each of his shoulders.

“Do you have an bloody idea how worried we’ve been? How much trouble we’re going to be in?” Liam asks, pulling back. Zayn smacks his shoulder in admonishment.

“Ay, don’t put a damper the reunion, Li! Happy times, these are. Well, except when I get you alone, Haz, then you might not be so happy,” Zayn shoots him a stern look, causing Harry to shrink back a bit.

“Sorry, mate,” he says, staring at his feet. He feels Zayn’s arm come back around his shoulders.

“ ‘s alright, Haz. We’ll be ok, let’s get you a room, yeah?” Zayn asks, rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

“Actually, I was, uh, going to ask if Harry would want to come up to mine?” Louis speaks up suddenly, still standing by the space vacated by the cab. Zayn and Liam both turn to stare at him, and Harry can feel his whole body freeze up.

“Lou, I’m not sure that’s a”

“It’s okay,” Harry blurts out, feeling his stomach turn. Zayn’s head whips around, giving Harry a skeptical look. Harry nods, more to himself than anyone else, before looking up to meet Louis’ gaze, smiling softly. Louis looks stunned but nods, walking forward to the door. Harry drops his head, avoiding Zayn and Liam’s concerned looks, and follows after him.

 

 

  

 

 

The rooms of the little inn are cozy, furnished much like Harry’s grandmother’s old house. Antique chairs, antique tables, a single big, wrought iron bed frame piled high with quilts and decorative pillows. Harry looks around slowly as he steps in, letting Louis walk past him and jump up to sit on the bed with a soft _thwump_. Silence stretches out over them as Harry runs his hand over the ornate dresser at the side of the room, studying the intricate curves in the wood. He finally turns and leans back against it, staring at Louis, who’s sitting with his feet dangling off the end of the bed, hands clasped in his lap. 

“I wasn’t sure you would actually come,” Harry says finally. He notes Louis’ fallen face, and quickly adds, “I wanted to, I really did, but a part of me just couldn’t help being wary.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says sadly. “There wasn’t really much reason for you to believe me.”

“But you came,” Harry points out quickly. Louis nods slowly.

“I did,” Louis mumbles slowly. “I don’t want to be that person anymore, Haz.”

“What person?” Harry asks softly, pushing himself off of the dresser and walking to the bed. He sits himself next to Louis, watching him watch his feet kick against the bed frame.

“The person who causes you to want to run away,” Louis whispers, and Harry can see him swallow thickly. He wants so badly to wrap him up in his arms, to just lie down and forget, but he knows he can’t. Not without some semblance of an answer. He settles for reaching over for Louis’ hands, grabbing one and interlacing their fingers, setting their entwined hands on the bed between them. 

“Why?” he says, watching Louis stare at their hands, heaving a sigh. “Why now?”

“Because…because I thought I was doing the right thing, and it couldn’t have been more wrong. I didn’t even really realize how much I had let myself be controlled until you were gone and I was trying to figure out _why._ And it’s all so clear now, and I can’t…you were- you _are_ the most important person in my life, and I don’t even feel like I deserve to be in your presence anymore.”

Harry squeezes his hand tightly, seeing Louis wipe at his eyes.

“You do, Lou, you always do,” he inhales sharply, steadying his voice. “And Eleanor?”

“Done. I threw myself into that relationship with everything I had and it never felt even half as real as when I was with you. I was scared and I was lying to myself and I hate myself for it. I just…I wish that we could go back to X Factor or something, so I could do it right from the start,” Louis’ looking at him now, and Harry can see the tear tracks marring his cheeks. He bites his lip, before disentangling their hands. Louis furrows his brow, hurt and confusion covering his face. Harry holds out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry Styles of Holmes Chapel, and I think you’re right fit,” he says confidently, letting a small smile grace his face. Louis’ eyes widen in understanding, and he slowly reaches out to grasp Harry’s hand firmly.

“Louis Tomlinson, Doncaster, and I’d very much like to kiss you right now if you’d allow it,” he says shyly, offering a small smile of his own. Harry exhales sharply through his nose as he shakes Lou’s hand, before nodding slowly.

“I think I’d very much like that,” he replies. He can hear Louis’ sigh of relief, and then his mouth is on his, soft and firm. There’s no fireworks, no explosion of passion between them, just an aching familiarity that comes with finally returning home.

The kiss stays soft and chaste as Louis’ lips move slowly against his, and Harry feels a hand come to rest on his hip. He reaches up to stroke Louis’ cheek, feeling the still damp skin and stroking it softly with his thumb. He feels more than hears Louis sigh into his mouth and he deepens the case, pulling lightly on Louis’ bottom lip. He returns the kiss with purpose, trying to convey every ache he felt in his core for every week he was away from Louis, for every month Louis had closed himself off to him. He shivers when he feels Louis’ tongue probe at his lips, then licking in slowly and pressing _closer, closer_.

Seconds, minutes, hours could have passed by, but they remain there, perched on the end of an old antique bed, kissing quietly. Eventually Harry pulls back, if only to get a quick breathe of air, leaning forward quickly to softly kiss the pout the forms on Louis’ lips, staying close to rest their foreheads together. They stay for a moment, breathing the same air, until Harry opens his eyes first to take in Louis’ face. His heart stutters when Louis opens his eyes, because even in the dim lighting of the room he can see the slight daze in them, and the way his lips have gone all red and kiss-swollen. Louis brings his hand up, stroking softly under Harry’s eyes before pressing a delicate kiss under each one. He pulls back, but continues to thumb lightly at Harry’s cheek.

“You look exhausted,” he murmurs softly, and Harry feels his eyes flutter shut at the tenderness in Louis’ voice. He leans into the touch, content with the warm pressure coming from Louis’ hand.

“Beds were like the tour bunks, all cramped,” he says softly. Louis hums in acknowledgement and removes his hand. Harry whines a bit, eyes snapping open and searching for Louis. He’s standing, looking at Harry fondly. 

“Go on then, to bed. I need a piss,” he says, walking towards the small bathroom. Harry laughs softly as he toes off his shoes.

“Always the charmer,” he mutters to himself, pulling off his shirt and trousers. He hesitates a moment, then shucks his briefs as well because it’s comfortable and it’s _just Louis_ , for Christ’s sake.

Except it’s not. It feels new and exciting and familiar and nostalgic and Harry finds himself smiling at the ceiling as he stretches out under the duvet cover. He feels something buzzing in his veins, soft and slow, as he watches Louis step out of the bathroom, clad in only his thin black briefs. He smiles softly as Harry pushes the covers back slightly. He slides in gently, and Harry pulls his body to him immediately, front to front so that their noses are just barely brushing. Harry leans in to kiss him softly, and Louis nips at his bottom lip gently before pulling back, reaching to push Harry’s fringe off of this face.

“Thank you,” Louis says softly. Harry rests a hand on his hip, just above Louis’ briefs, stroking the warm skin lightly.

“For what?” 

“For letting me back in. For giving me a chance to fix my mistakes.”

“I didn’t really have choice,” Harry says honestly. “I can’t seem to stay away from you.” 

Louis squirms forward, burying his face in Harry’s chest. Harry shivers as he feels Louis delicately kiss each bird inked there, before pushing slightly so that Harry lies on his back. He curls into Harry’s side, hot breath ghosting over Harry’s neck as he whispers softly in his ear.

“Okay?” he asks softly. Harry nods, craning his neck to press a quick kiss into Louis’ hair.

“Okay.”

 

 

 

 

 

Harry awakes groggy and disoriented, but with a new sharpness to his mind that hadn’t been present when he had gone to bed. He blinks a few times, shifting slowly so as not to jostle Louis, who’s remained latched on to his side, exhaling tiny, snuffling breaths against his neck. Harry reaches for the nightstand, blindly grabbing his phone, and is shocked to read that it’s already half past noon. There’s a text from Niall, time stamped to 11 am.

_Imma guess from your lack of communication that you 2 are doing horrible, horrible things to each other good good good! Knew it’d work out Haz I always do. Gone to hunt down may’s bro with her nd bree meet us at the harbor when ya get up! z and li are exploring I think so round them up 2_

He tosses his phone back onto the nightstand and turns his attention to the boy curled up in his arms. Louis’ still as clingy as ever when he sleeps, his hand curled around Harry’s hip and the entire length of his body pressed up against Harry’s side. His hair is a mess, golden fringe flopping across his forehead as he dozes, mouth slightly open. Harry can’t help but smile as he leans down.

“Lou, wake up,” he says softly, kissing his forehead gently. Louis groans, eyelids fluttering, opting to mash his face into Harry’s neck rather than respond. Harry chuckles, gently moving Louis’ arm so he can roll over and face the sleeping boy.

“Lou,” he says repeatedly, leaning in to kiss his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, grinning as Louis’ face scrunches up. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking a couple times before offering Harry a sleepy smile.

“Hi,” he says slowly, his morning voice rough and gravely. Harry reaches to push Louis’ fringe out of his face before leaning in to kiss him closed-mouth, because if there’s one thing he remembers it’s how much Louis _hates_ morning breath.

“Niall wants us to go to the harbor,” he says gently, pulling back. Louis pulls a face, flopping onto his back.

“Can’t we just stay here all day?” he groans, putting his arm over his face. Harry scoots closer, tracing a finger over the stag tattoo on Louis’ bicep.

“I wish we could, but I want to go see them all and see if they’ve found May’s brother,” Harry says, watching goose bumps spring up along Louis’ arm under his touch.

“Is that the one Niall’s obsessed with?” Louis asks. Harry raises an eyebrow at him, stilling his hand. “Oh come on, you had to notice, he won’t shut up about her.”

“I’m not surprised, no,” Harry says thoughtfully. He'd been hoping for it, to be honest. That just confirms his already-there suspicions.

“When are we supposed to meet them?”

“Uh, now, maybe?” Louis glares at him, pushing himself up and off the bed.

“Well, get on with it, then. Can’t have you running San Fran around starkers now, can we?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The air is cool when they step out onto the docks, Liam and Zayn in tow. They catch a few side-eye glances from some folks out for a mid-day stroll, but manage to get out onto the dock relatively unnoticed. They spot Niall on the boat deck, facing away from them and leaning against the railing. He spins when they holler up at him, quickly making his way down the ramp, Bree and May following behind him.

“Well?” Harry asks, looking at the trio. Niall makes a face and May shakes her head, shrugging one shoulder.

“Apparently he’s moved out of the old apartment. Can’t say I’m surprised, that place was a shithole. I left a few voicemails on his cell, though, so hopefully he hears them soon.”

“And it’s only day one! Plenty of time ahead of us!” Niall says optimistically, throwing an arm around May’s shoulder. She smiles at him softly, and Harry glances at Louis, sharing an amused expression. Louis grins back and lets his arm slip around Harry, resting his hand at his hip. 

“Just how long do you plan on staying here, Niall?” Liam asks, eyebrow raised. Niall shrugs. 

“I like it here! Not exactly in a rush to face whatever’s gonna happen when we get back, few days out here won’t hurt!”

“He’s right,” Louis says. “It’d be nice to have some down time before they kick the living shit out of us.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad…” Liam bites his lip, tentative. Zayn rolls his eyes and glares at him.

“We’re on an unplanned hiatus, Louis broke it off with management’s favorite puppet- no offense, Lou- Harry basically became a runaway except now everyone just thinks he’s mentally unstable, and then the rest of us up and left to find him when we were essentially under house arrest. HOW will it not be that bad, Li” Zayn exclaims. Liam’s shocked and sheepish expression is enough to send Harry off into a fit of giggles. They all turn when someone clears their throat behind them. They turn, a find an older woman standing hesitantly, clutching the hand of a nervous young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve just got back from an excursion and she spotted you and she’s a huge fan but is feeling a little, do you think you could take a quick picture with her?”

“Sure!” Liam is the first to respond, and he kneels down, smiling at the young fan. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Abby,” the girl says softly, letting go of her mother’s and walking forward to hug Liam tentatively. Breezy takes the mother’s phone, ushering her into the picture as they pose around Abby for a quick group shot. As they back away, Louis places his arm back around Harry’s waist. Harry’s eyes widen, and he turns to grin at Louis, who just winks and smiles back.

“I think you guys are really cute together,” Abby says softly, as she pulls back from a hug with Zayn. Harry’s jaw drops a bit, unsure of how to respond. Abby’s mother rushes forward quickly, placing a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, she can be a bit forward-“

“Nah, it’s ok, miss. I think we’re really cute together too,” Louis replies, and suddenly he leans forward to kiss a very stunned Harry on the lips. He has to blink a few times, dazed, before he finally registers what Louis had just done.

“Oh that’s wonderful then! Good for you two. You’ll be wonderful role models,” the lady smiles, warm and sincere, and grabs her daughter’s hand as a car honks in the distance. “That’ll be dad, Abby, can you say thank you to the nice boys?”

“Thank you!” Abby hums happily, waving as she follows her mother. Harry turns back to Louis, and he’s sure his face must still be frozen in astonishment.

“Are you serious right now?” he asks incredulously. Louis furrows his brow, removing his hand from Harry’s waist in order to face him.

“Was that not okay?”

“No,” Harry says slowly. “It was brilliant. I just…I don’t know what to say to you right now.” Louis smiles brightly at him, grabbing his hand.

“Think about it, it’ll come to you. Now, didn’t someone say something about lunch?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

They end up finding a small corner café for a late lunch, and Harry is buzzing throughout the whole affair. He keeps spacing out, finding himself watching Louis, still feeling shocked that he would _kiss_ him, in public, in front of a fan. May and Niall take to throwing french fries at him each time they catch him, and he’s certain there’s still ketchup in his hair even though the pair _swear_ they were all clean.

As soon as they pay, Harry meets Louis’ eye, stating that he’s still a bit worn out and would like to take a nap before they do anything later that night. Niall smirks at him, waggling his eyebrows knowingly as the two clamber into a cab to head back to the inn.

As soon as they’re in the room, Harry crowds Louis up against the door, feeling the entire length of him pressed up against him. 

“Tell me you meant what I think you mean,” he says, breathing heavily. Louis smiles, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.

“I told management I’d kiss you in the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge, but I guess I couldn’t wait until we had a chance to go,” he sasses, and Harry can’t take it anymore. He surges forward, hands going up to grip Louis’ head and pull him into a bruising kiss. Louis responds immediately, letting his tongue dart out to poke at Harry’s lips, and Harry grants him immediate access. He can feel Louis’ hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans.

He can’t believe he’d forgotten how _dizzying_ it was to kiss Louis. He can feel arousal course through him as Louis licks into his mouth eagerly. He feels like he’s a 16 year old, sneaking around the X Factor house for heated kisses in bathrooms because he just can’t get enough. He feels light-heated. He pulls back for air, and moans as Louis’ mouth immediately goes to his neck, nipping and sucking what’s sure to be a hell of a love bite this evening. He reaches down and gently pushes Louis’ hands off of his ass, earning him a whine of protest, before bringing his own hands to Louis’ bum and lifting him swiftly. Louis locks his legs around Harry’s hips and they both groan as their crotches rub _just_ so, both well on their way to fully hard. He’d forgotten how easy it was to manhandle Louis, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t still get off on how much smaller he was.

Louis noses his way back up to Harry’s mouth, kissing him heatedly. Harry spins them, opening his eyes to pick out the location of the bed before walking forward and depositing Louis onto the mattress. Louis pushes himself back to the pillows as Harry crawls on top of him, shucking his shirt as he goes. Louis takes the hint and quickly pulls his off as well as Harry attaches his lips to his neck, determined to leave a matching mark. He remembers how sensitive certain spots on Louis’ neck are, and it doesn’t take him long to elicit a needy moan as he sucks hard at a spot behind his ear. He soothes the bite quickly, licking over it, before returning his attention to Louis’ mouth. Louis’ started to rut up slowly, small swivels of his hips that send sparks flying through Harry’s body with each rub. He reaches down between their bodies, palming at the bulge of Louis’ dick. He manages to lift his own body up enough to undo the buttons of both their jeans, and Louis quickly reaches down to help him so that they’re both lying naked, pants and briefs thrown to the end of the bed. Harry pulls away from the kiss with a gasp.

“Do you really think we can do it?” he pants out, watching Louis roll his eyes and groan in frustration.

“What, have sex? I sure hope so or this is about to get real awkward,” Louis says, rutting up hard. Harry fails to sustain a moan as he feels Louis’ cock drag against his own, slick with precome. 

“No, no, be together. Do you think we can pull this off?” his hips grind down of their own accord, chasing friction, and he drops his head to mouth at Louis’ chest, tracing the words inked under his collarbone. Suddenly, Louis’ hands are in his hair, pulling him up so that their eyes are level.

“Haz. I will fight everything they throw at us to keep us together, you hear me? I’m down being that scared boy, because you’re worth every minute of the fight. Okay?” Harry nods, throat tightening. “Now go get that lube you keep in your bag, before I lose my mind here.”

Harry nods and slides off the bed, suddenly cold at the loss of a warm body beneath him. He fumbles through his bag quickly, grabbing the bottle and a condom for good measure and tossing it onto the bed. He settles back in between Louis’ leg, looking up at him.

“You or me?” he manages to breath out, leaning forward to teasingly mouth across Louis’ hip, ignoring his flushed, hard cock purposefully. He smirks as Louis lets out a shuttery moan, high and wrecked.

“You, you, come on now Haz,” he pants out, hips surging up as Harry pulls away, uncapping the bottle and drizzling the cool liquid onto his fingers. Louis adjusts to lift his hips slightly, writhing as he feels Harry’s finger begin to trace around his hole. As he adds more pressure, Harry takes the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth, licking at the slit as he pushes his finger into the tight heat. Louis’ back arches off the mattress, and Harry uses his other hand to grip Louis’ hip, holding him steady. He knows it’s been a while, and takes his time licking up and down Louis’ cock as he gradually works his finger into the knuckle. As soon as Louis’ noises turn into mostly ragged breathes he slips in a second finger, then a third, thrusting and scissoring slowly until Louis is pushing against the three digits. He watches Louis’ body react as his fingers brush against that hard nub, a high cry of _god, Harry_ escaping Louis’ lips. Harry withdraws his fingers quickly, searching for the condom.

His hands slip over the wrappings until Louis grabs it from him, swiftly ripping it open and sitting up to roll it onto Harry’s dick. Harry feels his body tense at the contact, and he can’t help the whimper that escapes his mouth as he bucks up into Louis’ hand. He slicks himself up as Louis lies back, bringing his legs around Harry’s waist and locking his ankles. He pulls Louis into a rough kiss as he lines himself up, slowly pushing the head into the tight ring of muscle. He groans loudly as everything becomes _tight_ and _hot,_ struggling to steady himself as he hears Louis whine in discomfort.He lets a hand stroke over Louis’ stomach, feeling the muscles flutter as Louis tenses, panting into Harry’s mouth as he adjusts. Harry pushes in slowly, pausing every so often to let Louis get his bearings, until his hips are flush to Louis’ ass. They both still, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air. Harry memorizes the way Louis looks in this moment, taking in his blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, the little bit of sweat beading in between his eyes. 

“Move,” Louis grunts out finally, pushing his hips against Harry. Harry obliges, pulling almost all of the way out before thrusting back in slowly, building a rhythm as Louis’ soft grunts fade to high, breathy moans. He leans forward to kiss him as he forces Louis’ thighs to hitch higher, searching for the right angle. He grins when he finds it, watching Louis cry out and tighten his legs, moaning _yes, right there Harry, come on._ He feels hot all over as he feels himself quickly approaching the finish, and tries to slow down the pace to make it last. Louis is having none of it though, and he quickly begins grind down on Harry’s cock, chasing it with each thrust.

“Get on with it now, ‘m close too, come with me now, yeah?” Louis manages to grunt out, wrapping his arms around Harry’s back. He sinks his nails in on a particularly good thrust and Harry bites his lip at the sting of it. He gets a hand between them, pulling roughly on Louis’ cock as he speeds up his thrusts once more. Louis comes moments later, spurting across his and Harry’s stomachs, and it’s one, two, three thrusts more before Harry follow, burying his face into Louis’ neck as he comes deep within Louis. They remain entangled, panting, until Harry pulls out slowly, collapsing half on top of him. He feels a hand stroke into his curls and he lifts his head, catching Louis’ lips with his own quickly. He pulls back, and Louis runs a thumb across his bottom lip, staring with a dazed wonder in his eyes.

“I love you,” Harry says honestly, because he feels on top of the fucking world and it just feels right to let it slip right out. Louis smiles at him, leaning up swiftly to plant a kiss on his nose.

“I love you, too,” he replies, and Harry struggles to imprint every part of this moment into his mind, leaning in to kiss Louis firmly before going to grab a wet towel from the bathroom to clean up.

He’s thousands of miles from ‘home,’ but as he curls around Louis’ back, murmuring tales of the sea into his ear as they watch shit daytime television, tired and sated but happy and _free,_ he feels as if he’s never been closer to it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI. I love you. I am leaving Saturday and I am SORRY for not ending this, but i have one more chapter to write and an epilogue which will come AS SOON AS I return and get my bearings. So about 3-3 1/2 weeks I promise no longer than that. if you have ANY questions feel free to drop by my tumblr ask, in-the-blinkofaneye, as i will check in occasionally while i am travelling!  
> hugs and kisses and good lord look at all of you still reading. unbelievable. THANK YOU.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi hi! i'm back! just this and the epilogue!

Looking back, Harry thinks he can safely consider their days in California as some of the best of his life.

He wakes up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a warm body tangled around him, tufts of golden hair glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. A glance at his phone reads 7:30 am, and a text from Niall saying to meet them at the docks later so they can explore the area properly before returning home.

In the past, if he had woken up like this, he’s movements would’ve been heated and rushed. Who knew how long he would have with Louis, how long before the world stepped in and made things muddled and confused. Mornings would mean rough touches, quick blowjobs, the overwhelming desire to just _take take take_ before the fire coursing through his veins went out 

There’s no rush this morning. No threat of being torn apart the minute they leave the safety of the bed. The fire is a dull ache, a soft pulse of _want want want_ and a reminder that all he ever wanted is right there in front of him, sleeping peacefully, no longer looking to run away.

So he shifts, pulling Louis flush against him, and dozes back off, an eerie calmness settling in his bones.

And if, an hour later in the shower, Louis gives him what may be one of the best blowjobs he’s ever received in his life, he’s not going to be one to complain.

 

 

 

 

 

“So,” Niall begins, slinging an arm over the back of the couch, “bright and early out tomorrow, eh? Think they’ll be rolling out the red carpet for our triumphant return?" 

They’re seated in a private, outdoor VIP area of a bar, a cute set up of couches and armchairs around a crackling fire, fairy lights twinkling from the trees around them. Zayn and Liam are sat on a separate, larger couch, flipping through their travel itinerary for the morning, while Harry had plopped himself down in an armchair, promptly pulling Louis into his lap. He shifts now, pulling Louis’ body a bit closer to his own, letting his fingers dance lightly across Louis’ hip.

“I would think armed guards would be more appropriate, really,” Louis quips. “Maybe handcuffs, so we don’t run off the moment we touch down.” 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in handcuffs,” Harry says thoughtfully, nipping lightly at Louis’ shoulder. He feels Louis shiver, and grins wickedly at the rush of color that works its way across his neck and cheekbones.

“Hey! None of that here, it’s family night,” comes a voice. Harry lifts his head, and sees May making her way through the gate, Bree and company in tow. There’s another man walking behind her, hands shoved in his pocket. May stops him in front of the group, placing a hand on his arm.

“Alright, everyone, this is my brother, Jake. Jake, uh, One Direction,” she says, gesturing to the seated boys.  

“Hey, we know you!” Liam says. Heads snap to stare at him, confused.

“We do?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah, yeah! He did our last interview, before we went to Australia! At that radio station,” Liam replies, nodding.

“That I did,” Jake says timidly. “Thanks for uh, bringing my sister back.”

“Wait,” Harry says, studying May and Jake standing together. “There were ‘missing’ posters hanging up at the studio. Were they for her?” he points at May, who pulls a face.

“You saw those? Yeah, those were me,” she pauses to smack Jake’s arm. “See? _No one_ could recognize me from that god-awful picture you used.” Jake rubs his arm sheepishly, and May gives him a softer look. “The sentiment is still appreciated.”

She walks over to the couch Niall’s sprawled on, nudging his legs out of the way before sitting down next to him, motioning for Jake to join her. He does slowly, looking awkward and out of place. Niall reaches around May and pokes his shoulder playfully.

“Cheer up, mate, you’re in great company!” he says brightly. From across the fire, Bree rolls her eyes dramatically.

“ _That’s_ up for debate. Run while you can, Jake, I never had the choice,” she ducks with a yelp as Harry chucks a pillow in her direction. “ _Abuse_ Styles, you’re leaving me tomorrow and this is the love I receive? I may just uninvited you from my wedding.” 

“Can’t, I’m best man,” Harry taunts, sticking his tongue out at her. Louis shifts to look at him, eyebrows raised.

“ _You’re_ best man in her wedding? Those poor souls,” he says dramatically. Harry pokes at his side, where he remembers him being most ticklish.

“You could be maid of honor, I bet you’d look hot in the dress,” Harry replies, meeting Louis’ eyes in a heated gaze. 

“Hello? Maid of honor, sitting right here?” May hollers, waving her hands. Harry glances at her briefly, but decides to ignore her, settling his chin on Louis’ shoulder a burying his face in the crook of his neck. Much more appealing.

“God, they’re awful together aren’t they?” he hears Bree coo appreciatively. “Chase, why don’t you cuddle me like that?” 

“Because last time I tried you kneed me in the balls getting up, complaining that you were overheating. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” Bree says absentmindedly. Harry lifts his head to glance at them, and sees Chase looking at her with all the fondness in the world. A comfortable silence falls over the group, the dull thrum of music seeping out from inside the walls of the bar. 

“Do you think we’ll have to do like, a huge interview when we get back?” Zayn asks suddenly. Harry makes a face of disgust. The last thing he wants to do when they get back to London is an awkward interview explaining the hiatus and the plan for the future, with some overly excited interviewer digging for the ‘big secret.’ Especially not now that picture have _definitely_ surfaced of him and Louis canoodling around these past couple days.

“They’ll make us do _something_ at the least. Wonder what they’ll want us to say,” Liam replies. An idea suddenly strikes Harry. 

“Hey Jake,” he starts slowly, waiting till the man is looking at him before continuing. “Wanna come to London and interview us?” Jake’s eyes widen in shock.

“I…I mean, I couldn’t, you’ll want an experienced professional, I just do quick radio segments-“ Niall cuts him off, sitting up eagerly.

“Nah, no, it would be perfect! You seem like a nice guy and like, you _know_ the story and-and bring May, she knows us, and it’ll be fun! We’ll plan it all out so it’s not awkward or uncomfortable and just have a good time with it!” he’s grinning like a maniac now, arm wrapped comfortably around May’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know if you’ll want me doing any talking, I’ll just ask about your dicks and talk about how Harry nearly fell overboard ‘cause he was scared shitless of that pelican we saw,” May says with a wry grin.

“Excuse me, that thing was massive and flying right at me!” Harry cries indignantly. He feels more than hears Louis laugh at him, feels a hand come up to pet at his hair.

“Was probably trying to nest up here, love, your hair’s gotten quite unruly,” he says, running his fingers through a few strands. Harry closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“I think that’s brilliant, actually,” Liam says, turning to Zayn, who nods in agreement. “Just fly out with us tomorrow then, they’re sending our plane so you don’t have to worry about tickets or anything.”

“Nice!” May exclaims enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to go to London. Can I wear my One Direction t-shirt out?”

“ _No,”_ comes the unanimous reply.    

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s dark and drizzling by the time they arrive at the airport at the very ass crack of dawn the next morning. Harry rubs at his eyes blearily as he hands off the last of his bags to a rumpled looking Paul, who wraps him into a tight hug before directing towards the ramp.

Doc and Gloria end up joining the crew, after Harry extends the invitation as a thank you for letting him travel with them for the past month. They sit up front with Paul and the security team that came over, chatting amicably over steaming cups of coffee.

They had bid Bree, Chase and Sam good-bye the previous night. Bree had wiped at her eyes furiously before pulling Harry aside.

“First off, you’re making me cry, so you’re an asshole,” she had begun, pushing lightly at his arm. He had grinned back, eyes a bit watery as well. “Second off, I love you, you know that right? Don’t forget about me when all those other pretty blonde girls start throwing themselves at you again, ok?”

“You’ll always be the prettiest,” he had replied, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug, feeling her laugh into his chest. 

“You’re just saying that because I can kick you out of the wedding,” she says, sniffling. And he laughs, cause yeah, that would be a Bree thing to do. 

And he’ll never tell her, but he cried for a bit into Louis’ shoulder on their ride back to their room, because yeah, she’d managed to worm her way into his heart.

He plops into a seat on the plane, stretching out his legs to prepare for the long flight. He’s sad, but hopeful. He’s not losing anything, he tells himself, he’s gaining a hell of a lot. 

His reverie is broken by something –someone- plopping down on his lap, curling into his shoulder. Louis doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles his nose behind Harry’s ear, trailing soft kisses along his jawline. Harry moves his head to catch Louis’ lips lightly with his own, kissing him chastely before leaning back, shifting his arms to wrap around Louis’ waist. 

“You okay?” Louis asks softly. Harry nods, kissing him lightly.

“Brilliant,” he replies because yeah, he is. He’s going home.  

 

 

 

 

 

They schedule the ‘interview’ for their third day back, choosing to film outside in Lou and Tom’s backyard rather then head to a studio. Daybreak had hastily agreed to run the interview, even offering Jake a significant sum of money, which he initially turned down (he eventually accepted, but only after May had complained that he owed her about 3 years worth of birthday and Christmas presents).

It’s easy like this, Harry thinks. They spend the first few minutes joking about Jake’s nervousness, about him not being pretty enough for TV and being stuck hiding behind the mic on the radio. Despite having been apart for years, May and Jake play off each other well, with snarky remarks and clever jokes that have even the camera crew stifling a laugh. 

As the actual interview progresses, though, Harry feels himself tense up, running through what he wants to say and what he wants to keep for himself.

“So, you’ve just taken a brief hiatus from touring, uh, any thing to say about the reason for that break?” Jake asks, and Harry can see his eyes flick towards him, looking for approval. Harry nods as Liam speaks up.

“You know Jake, we knew this tour would be long. We knew it would be hard and tiring, but I don’t think any of us really understood just _how_ worn down we would be. I mean, we’re only human, we just sleep a lot less and sing a lot more. It just got to the point where we realized we had to stop before someone got hurt or sick”

“It wears down your body and mind,” Harry says, clearing his throat. “I felt as if I couldn’t give 100%, maybe not even 75%, and that’s not fair to the fans. We’re gonna do our best to reschedule every tour date, maybe even add a few down in Australia, but we want the fans to come and see us at our best.”

“So a mental vacation, then, very nice,” Jake says. “And you actually spent yours with my sister here, right Harry? How did you guys run into each other?”

“He stumbled upon my uh, friends and I at the beach one night,” May answers, winking at Harry. “He was pretty lost, so we put him in the right direction, and ended up becoming friends. Bit stupid he was, really, trusting some strange Australian and American folk like he did.” 

“It worked out,” Harry responds. “They took me on their boat.”

“Kidnapped him, really” May says, nodding seriously, before turning to the camera, wide-eyed. "No, not really, I swear, please don't arrest me."

“Very good, very good,” Jake interrupts. “And now what, guys? Back to touring?”

“Yeah, yeah the new dates have just been sent out, so all ticket holders should have received emails about that as well as about the few new dates. We’ve got a quick few days of rehearsal here and then we’re off,” Zayn says. Harry nods along with him, feels Louis’ hand reach over and settle on his knee, squeezing gently.

“Great! Now, one last thing. Louis, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up several weeks ago. Now, there’s a picture of you and Harry here that’s been floating around the internet, of you two in San Francisco, I believe. Care to comment on that?”

“You know, Jake, I think that the people can draw their own conclusions from that really,” Louis responds, hand tightening around Harry’s knee. Harry glances up, and sees that the camera is trained on the two of them. He smiles. 

“Keeping it a bit of a mystery, then. Another day, another story, right? We’ll chat again. But thank you for taking the time to talk with me and to all the viewers, once again everybody, One Direction!”

They pause and smile for a few seconds, and then the cameras turn off and the crew begins to pack up. Niall walks over to scoop up Lux, who had been standing by the porch door, watching the interview intently. Zayn and Liam walk over to chat with Jake and May, and Harry smiles and how seamlessly everything had fit together. Louis stands up, leaning over to kiss Harry’s cheek lightly, tangling his fingers through his hair. 

“Was that alright?” Jake asks, loosening his tie.

“Brilliant, mate, just what we wanted,” Liam says.

“Head home, meet around 7 for dinner and then go out?” Zayn asks, looking between the boys.

“Yeah man! Gotta get my London fix before it’s back to business!” Niall calls, bouncing Lux in his arms. Harry grins, standing to snap a picture, quickly posting it to Instagram. 

“You hear that, Harry, Louis?” May says suddenly. “Plan your shagging accordingly. I know that honeymoon phase is lovely and all, but we’ve got places to be.” 

“Mmmhmm,” he responds absentmindedly, reaching to grab Louis’ hand and pull him towards the gate. Louis grins like a mad man, running ahead and dragging Harry behind him.

“Where are you going?” Liam calls from behind them.

“Gotta get a head start, then!” Louis calls, pausing at Harry’s car to kiss him quick and messy before shoving him into the driver’s seat.

 

 

 

 

 

Six rolls around and their lying in bed, naked and sated, tangled together facing each other. Harry sighs happily as he feels Louis kiss his nose, his cheeks, behind his ears.

“We should shower,” he says halfheartedly, abs shuddering as he feels Louis’ hand trace the swallows on his collarbones.

“Not now,” Louis murmurs, continuing to run his hands along Harry’s chest, his shoulders, his back. Harry feels his eyes fluttering shut, a calm drowsiness settling over him. He rolls, pinning Louis underneath him, who lets out a startled yelp. Harry licks his nose cheekily.

“Because we said 7,” he says. Louis scrunches his nose, looking displeased at the prospect of moving anywhere soon.

“You didn’t _actually_ say yes to being on time, you know,” he responds, half-heartedly pushing his hips up in an attempt to grind against Harry’s dick. Harry pulls away, pushing himself up to hover over Louis’ body. “You just kinda grunted at May.”

“It was an affirmative response,” Harry says, dropping a kiss to the pout on Louis’ lips. Louis trails his hands down his side, grasping and Harry’s bum in an attempt to force their hips together. Harry lets him, but drops like deadweight, and Louis grunts and tries to wiggle out from underneath him.

“You,” he huffs, “are an absolute _Neanderthal_.”

“A Neanderthal?” Harry laughs, dropping his mouth the junction between Louis’ neck and shoulder. 

“Yes, with your stupid height and stupid muscles and stupid long limbs and just _manhandling_ me whenever you please. A big old caveman, you are,” Louis says, but Harry can _hear_ him grinning, words getting choked whenever Harry sucks at bit at his neck. 

“How romantic of you,” he says dryly, lifting his head back up to capture Louis’ lips. They kiss slowly, softly, until Harry pulls away first, resting his forehead on Louis’.

“We do need to shower now, though. Or they’ll be awful the rest of the night,” Harry whispers, picking out the shades of color in Louis’ eyes and smiling when he rolls them, finally shoving Harry off of him. 

“Well come on then, what are you waiting for?” Louis chastises, ducking quickly into the bathroom. Harry shakes his head, laughing before stumbling after him. Louis goes down on him as soon as the water’s turned on.

By the time they stumble out of their flat, grinning at each other as they walk towards the car, they’re running half an hour late. Harry doesn’t think he could care less, watching as Louis sprints ahead to the passenger side, tugging at the handle adorably until Harry clicks the remote unlock. He finds it hard to believe that, just a week and a half ago, he was in the middle of the ocean, despondent and confused and lonely and just trying to figure out what the hell came next. Now, he has a beautiful boy seated in the passenger seat, friends- new and old- waiting for them, and a renewed drive to carry him through the next month of performances

“Haz come _on,_ you’re gonna make us late!” Louis calls, snapping him back to reality. He smiles fondly, climbing into the driver’s seat. Louis grabs his hand as soon as the car is started, and yeah, Harry thinks, _this_ is everything that he had been searching for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO sorry for disappearing like that but traveling and moving and a new job and wow life ok hi i'm here! just the epilogue (the wedding, DUH cause i can't resist) to write hopefully soon and then im done! holy crap! what to do next??? thanks for putting up with my novice writing and as always you are all super wonderful!!!!!
> 
> just a reminder that you can also go to in-the-blinkofaneye on tumblr and my ask box is open there!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah a quick epilogue to wrap things up. so strange to be done! :(

**10 Months Later- Australia**

 

“Louis, I have to be out there in front of like, everyone, in 10 minutes-“

“Is that a challenge?” Louis grins wickedly, before returning his mouth to the sensitive spot behind Harry’s ear. Harry feels a hand on his chest, pushing him back until he feels the solid wall of the makeshift dressing room behind him. He groans as he feels their hips connect, dropping his hands to grab Louis’ ass and press up against him He feels deft hands coming up to undo his tie and he tries to forget that he has a wedding to be in and then-

“Hey what’s taking- oh for fuck’s sake Louis, _no hickeys!_ ” The door bangs open, and from over Louis’ hair Harry can see May standing with a hand on her hip, glaring at them. Louis laughs softly into his neck, staying close while his breathing evens out.

“Sorry, May, it’s just something about this damn suit,” Louis says, giving Harry a once over. May rolls her eyes and strides forward, pushing Louis aside and reaching to redo Harry’s tie. Harry smiles at her fondly. Her maid of honor dress is a stunning deep shade of blue with a subtle sparkle embroidered into the bodice. She adjusts the bouquet of white and blue flowers tucked under her arm with a _hmmph_ before shoving them at Louis who takes them with a wicked grin. May side-eyes him briefly before returning to work, undoing the ruined knot completely.

“You look lovely,” Harry offers cheekily. May rolls her eyes at him. 

“Thanks. Louis, out,” she says tersely, pulling the tie a bit harder then necessary, Harry thinks as he feels his neck pull forward slightly.

“What? Why?” Louis exclaims, eyes wide. 

“Because Harry is _not_ going out there with a boner, and it certainly isn’t going to go down any faster with you standing there giving him bedroom eyes. Now give me my flowers and get _out.”_  

Louis pulls a dramatic pouting face, but relents, handing May her bouquet and kissing Harry chastely, muttering “break a leg, stud” which sends a rosy blush high onto Harry’s cheeks.

“Where’s Sam?” he asks, furrowing his brow as May starts pacing anxiously.

“Already out there waiting, like a responsible human being,” May scolds, cautiously running a hand through her perfectly curled hair. Harry pushes himself off the wall he had been leaning on, reaching out to grab her wrist gently.

“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?” She sighs, gently wriggling out of his grip to go sit in one of the armchairs in the center of the room.

“Nervous, I guess. How ridiculous is that? I’m not even getting _married_ and I’m freaking out because everything should be perfect because it’s Bree and she deserves to have whatever she’s always dreamt of for a wedding and I feel responsible and I just-“ she trails off, shaking her head. She glances to her left, spotting a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice and quickly pops the cork, taking a long swig. Harry raises his eyebrows at her. She swallows at looks at him pointedly. “Oh, fuck off, you want some. Come over here and tell me I look pretty and maybe you can have some.”

Harry shakes his head in disbelief, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Despite having arrived in Sydney almost a week ago for the ceremony and celebrations, this was the first time he was actually _alone_ with May and the first time he was realizing just how much he had missed her. They’d kept in touch during the past 10 months, texting and skyping and a handful of visits here and there, but their schedules and time differences had proved tedious. Between finishing out One Direction’s tour and recording new music, and May’s internship at Jake’s radio station and classes at UCLA, the two were lucky to even send a quick ­ _good morning!_ everyday. 

It had been hard. But they’re here now, and May is freaking out, and, well. It’s an interesting change, he thinks, as he takes a swig of champagne before kneeling before May.

“You do look pretty,” he starts. “And everything will be perfect. We’re all here, together, all the flowers and food and drinks and cake have been delivered, as far as I know both Bree and Chase have decided to show up, and there’s nothing more to do except enjoy a lovely day. I mean, have you seen everything you’ve had set up? You took maid of honor and you _killed_ it.”

May grins and flushes a bit, taking another swig champagne before shaking her head at herself. 

“I can’t believe I’m freaking out this much. God, my poor husband when I _do_ get married. Promise not to take any of my shit when I inevitably meltdown?” she asks. 

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky. “And don’t worry, I have a feeling Niall won’t be the most composed groom we’ve ever seen.”

May scoffs and swats at his shoulder, knocking him backwards onto his bum. He laughs and waggles his eyebrows before making a show of passing out in agony. May and Niall had become _awfully_ cozy over the months, even getting papped together a few times leaving a bar or a hotel holding hands. Harry isn’t sure how much the relationship had progressed, but. There’s something there. And he certainly is one of that relationship’s number one fans.

“Hey Harry?” May says suddenly, breaking his reverie. He lifts his head to meet her eyes. “I’m glad you dropped into my life last year.”

“Me too,” he replies, smiling softly. Harry hoists himself to his feet, brushing the wrinkles out of his slacks. He offers out a hand, intertwining his fingers with May’s and pulling her to her feet. “Come on, it’s only proper for the best man to escort the maid of honor to the big event.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The church itself is beautiful, big and old and decorated with the same blue and white flowers in each bridesmaids’ bouquet. Bree had insisted on the blue tones, even going as far to have a fountain set up in her father’s bar for the reception that would be illuminated with blue light. None of the arrangements were terribly elaborate, but enough to provide a simple eloquence that made the overall set up absolutely stunning.

Harry realizes, standing up at the altar with the rest of the groomsmen, that he’s feeling the same butterflies May must have been feeling before. Everything seems bigger and more fragile and real in the moments leading up to the bride’s big entrance. He adjusts himself, swallowing thickly, before scanning the pews and catching a pair of familiar, warm eyes. Louis waves enthusiastically, a wide grin plastered across his face. He’s seated in the second row, with Niall and Liam and Zayn by his side, who all pull ridiculous faces once they realize they’ve caught Harry’s attention (except for Liam, who reaches over to clock Niall around the head when he pulls an obscene gesture, rolling his eyes dramatically and giving Harry a thumbs up).

He can’t help but grin broadly, shaking his head at the four. And then it’s show time, as the organist starts up the familiar tune and the entire crowd rises, Louis flashing him one more warm smile and winking before turning his attention towards the entrance.

And turn their heads they should, because Harry finds himself choking up as Bree walks down the aisle, biting her lip and hanging on tightly to her father’s arm. Her dress is big but simple, with a soft sparkle to the skirt and a delicate rhinestone trim along the bodice. Harry’s just reaching up to wipe a completely clichéd tear from his eye when Louis turns to him, raising his eyebrows and mouthing _hubba hubba_ and Harry has to adapt quickly, laughing into the crook of his elbow. He spares a glance at Chase, who looks completely entranced by Bree, before quickly flipping Louis off. Louis smiles smugly, sitting down as Bree reaches the altar and the priest begins the proceedings.

It’s not flashy, it’s not incredibly glamorous, but Harry feels equal parts overwhelmed and just plain happy throughout the whole ceremony.  It passes by in a blur of love and tears and laughter (because Bree’s vows, as lovely as they are, brought the entire crowd to tears from laughing at some of the ridiculous reasons why she loves Chase). He glances at Louis every so often, catching him wiping tears and smiling and, just once when their eyes meet by chance, mouthing _someday_. His stomach flips at that, his heart beating a million miles an hour as Chase slips a ring onto Bree’s finger and he can’t help but mouth back _I love you._

Some time ago, the thought of that would have been terrifying- surrendering himself over like that, making himself so vulnerable to the one person with the power to tear him apart. But it’s not anymore. It seems almost obvious now, that someday he’ll be standing up there, looking at Louis like he’d hung the moon and stars.

He joins in the applause as Bree and Chase kiss and make their way back down the aisle, hands joined and raised triumphantly. He begins to follow, stopping only when he feels a hand slip into his, pulling him back. He turns and grins broadly at Louis, who’s eyes look more than a little teary. Harry snakes an arm around his waist, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. Louis lets out a shuddery sigh, running his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip before pulling back and resting his forehead against Harry’s. Harry swallows thickly, running his thumb across Louis’ cheek.

“Promise?” he whispers softly, wary of the people around them making their way out of the church.

“Promise,” Louis replies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reception is what Bree absolutely _insisted_ be over the top. There are hundreds of people expected, so tables take up the majority of the floor space. A gigantic 7-tiered cake sits in one corner, surrounded by a large variety of different desserts to be had after the main courses have been served. A local band is slotted to play fun, light-hearted music throughout the meal, before disbanding for the first dance and giving way to a rather prominent Australian DJ to play late into the night. The entire bar was draped with blue and white fairy lights, centered around the massive fountain in the center of it all.

The food is pretty damn good too.

Being best man, Harry is seated at the main table with Bree and Chase as well as Sam, May, Gloria and Doc. He had hesitantly asked about seating Louis and the other boys their, to which Bree had rolled her eyes and said, “they’re already placed there, god, just don’t be groping Louis under the table the entire night, k?”

He really did love that girl sometimes. 

The meal passes in a blur of heavy, rich entrées and plenty of champagne and wine so that by the time Harry and Sam attempt a best men speech, they have to stop ever other sentence to break off into a fit of giggles. During the other toasts, Louis does is part by inching is hand higher and higher up Harry’s thigh so that he’s squirming in his seat for most of the next half hour. Niall notices quickly, and helps the situation by pretending to moan ever few minutes, which sends the rest of their table into a fit of giggles and earns them several fond yet stern glares from Bree. 

At around quarter passed eight May stands, making her way over to the band and speaking to the singer for a brief moment before grabbing the microphone.

“Hi, everyone, I hope that you’ve enjoyed your meal and any other services offered at your tables,” she says, looking pointedly and Harry and Louis when she states the latter. Louis throws his hands up in faux-outrage as the guests laugh around them. “So, in a bit the DJ is going to come on and we’ll see just how drunk we’ve got you lot, but first we’re going to welcome Bree and Chase to the dance floor for their first dance.”

Applause breaks out as the two stand, grinning and waving as they make their way to the center of the dance floor. Many people stand as well to circle around the floor, and Harry and Louis manage to make their way to the front of the crowd. Servers rustle about behind them to clear plates and push the table back to expand the dance floor. May continues as soon as everyone is settled. 

“So, I’ll be singing for the lovebirds, and mercifully they managed to choose a song that only mildly makes me wanna gag myself, so, cheers you two. I hope those ballroom lessons will actually pay off. Band, let’s do this.”

 

_I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart  
But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start_

 

“I do love this song,” Niall sighs from Harry’s left. He rolls his eyes affectionately. 

“The song, or the girl singing it?” Harry asks. Niall hits his arm lightly, making a face, but doesn’t offer a defense. Harry grins at him, then reaches out blindly to lock his fingers with Louis’. Louis glances over at him, smiling brightly, before turning his attention back to the newlyweds.

The ballroom lessons did, in fact, appear to have paid off. The two move effortlessly, Chase keeping a steady hand on Bree’s lower back and looking at her with the widest grin on his face. Lucky that they’re both so graceful, he thinks. Him and Louis are going to look like a pair of poorly trained apes out there at their wedding reception.

The thought momentarily stuns him, and Harry finds his mind suddenly flooded with images of the future. Of a proposal, maybe in an exotic country of simply outside of the recording studio. Of months of planning, of his mother crying over centerpieces because her baby boy is all grown up. Of May harassing him for making her and Bree sing such a sappy song for the first dance, but smiling to herself as she sings it through when she thinks he’s not watching. Of a honeymoon and a new house and a dog and kids running around the yard, with curly hair and stunning blue eyes.

It’s later, when the night’s grown older and the celebration’s reaching its end, with a slow song playing over the speakers, that Harry will whisper these things to Louis, as they sway in place to a nameless love song. Whisper about everything they are now and everything he wants them to be. And Louis will pull back slightly, so that their noses just barely brush, and smile so brightly and delicately that Harry will want to get down on one knee right there, in the middle of it all. But he won’t because there’s a time and a place for that, and god knows they have all the time in the world now. He’ll kiss Louis soundly instead, just gentle movements of their lips until they aren’t even swaying anymore, just leaning in and breathing each other in.

There’s a time and place for more, and it’s their future, too big and too real and not at all as scary as it once was.

 

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good lord i made it. well then! that's that and thank you for being so patient. the feedback has been more than i could have ever hoped for, seeing as i wrote this on a whim while sitting waiting to go to our dinner slot on a cruise ship. you are all wonderful. i'll be back eventually- i've got a massive idea for a story swirling around my head, and i want to take the time to plan it and organize it and put words to thoughts before i start posting or hinting at it. so stay tuned! i can be found at in-the-blinkofaneye on tumblr- which is a secondary account, so just cause i dont post a lot doesnt mean im not there, cause i could be on my personal! leave a message, ask a question, give a prompt if you're feeling adventurous (no promises i'll come up with anything good!) but anyway, massive thank you to you all, and good night! :)


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